


One-shots

by 221castiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, One Shot, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Young Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24331420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221castiel/pseuds/221castiel
Summary: Mostly just a bunch of Destiel oneshots!requests are open!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 27
Kudos: 38





	1. I'm just going to shake, shake, shake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning back to normal life wasn’t going to be an easy task for recent veteran Dean Winchester, and Castiel knew that. But on one morning things seem to have gone from bad to worse

psychogenic tremor is the most common of psychogenic movement disorders, it is rarely visible to the eye and typically involves a fine shaking of one or both hands and the fingers. Most who have been diagnosed will as well suffer from a psychiatric disorder such as depression or ptsd.

~~~

Castiel watched from his spot at the foot of their bed, as he did every morning. His legs crisscrossed, head tilted slightly to the right. His eyes never leaving Dean. Watching every detail with care, as if Dean would leave him again. From the way he lent over the bathroom counter, his AC/DC shirt scrunching at his stomach, to the way his lips puckered out ever so slightly.

Watching Dean shave had been a morning tradition. Originally because Castiel has been too tired to get up and start his day, or maybe too content, with such a pure moment. Either way when Dean had returned from his army drafting things had changed. Castiel no longer watched with a small smile, but instead a deep frown. Worried for his boyfriends health. Knowing Dean had to much pride to even accept never mind just ask for help.

Castiel could hear a small swear as Dean surely chipped his skin once again. He couldn't have been back for longer than a month but his beard was already more cuts than hair.

The bed creaked under Castiel's weight as he stood up. Socked feet pressing against the wood floor in soft patters as he walked through their bedroom and into the conjoined bathroom.

"Hey angel" Dean said voice barely above a whisper. Castiel stopped at the door frame watching as other leaned forward face barely an inch away from the mirror. Razor brought to his face, yet no contact was made.

It had began unnoticed by Castiel, but within days it had become no secret that even simple tasks had become incredibly hard for Dean. From spilling juice, too being unable to go back to his previous job at the local auto shop, all because he couldn't control the constant shaking of his hands. Castiel had suggested, if not begged him to see a therapist. To get some help for not only his shaking hands but for the ptsd and anxiety that had come from being a soldier. Yet no matter how much Cas insisted Dean would only brush it off and reply with a 'it'll go away eventually'.

There was silence as neither spoke, Castiel watching Dean, and Dean watching the mirror, to focused on trying to steady his hands. Some days he could manage, but today, today was bad, there was no controlling it and the shaking was far from subtle. "May I help you?" Cas asked.

Dean shook his head. "I told yah, I can do it myself"

Even if it wasn't Castiel's hand, not his mind, it still pained him in ways that he couldn't describe. To see his boyfriend suffer, Dean who loved to do things on his own, who'd grown up relying on no one but himself, now unable to even drive his own car. It brought a lump in Castiel's throat, and a burning pain to his stomach. A feeling that could only be recreated by caring the world on your shoulders.

"Please Dean" Castiel insisted. He knew it frustrated the other, yet he could no longer watch Dean's suffering. "Let me help you".

"I'm fine"

"Dean-"

"I TOLD YOU CAS, I'M FINE" Castiel froze watching as Dean brought the razor to his face. With shaking hands he dragged it harshly across his cheek, a large chunk of skin being torn open, blood quickly dripping out of the open wound. "SON OF BTCH" Dean screamed once again.

There was a loud crash as he threw the razor into the sink, silence quickly following.

Castiel didn't move, not knowing if he should. Finally as the silence ticked on, he spoke. "Dean?" He stepped forward and reached a hand out, the tips of his fingers just gazing the others shoulder.

Dean turned his head, the haze over his eyes easily noticed, though no tears fell. "I'm sorry" he whispered out, "for everything..."

"You don't have to apologize" Castiel replied. He tore off some toilet paper before walking closer to Dean, slowly beginning to clean away the blood across his cheek. Once the cut had been covered and the blood had been cleaned  
he picked up the razor. With care beginning to drag it across Dean's uneven stubble.

The first half of Dean's face had been done in silence, Dean looking down while Cas worked with care. Fingers barely grazing skin as if he was working on a porcelain doll, and in some ways he felt he was. Dean hadn't been the same since returning. He had become distant, spending hours alone in their room, never speaking of the pain that he felt and was feeling. It tore him down, Castiel knew that. He had felt it, hiding the pain away, letting it eat you from the inside out. At first you could feel nothing, but that only could last for so long before you felt everything. Castiel was sure for Dean that moment would come soon.

"I love you"

The words came so sudden, so simply, that for a second Cas wasn't truly sure Dean had even spoken them.

"I love you too," Castiel replied softly.


	2. Ones lonely, twos a company, and threes perfect {destiel}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~AU~

"Is everything alright with her! Is she going to be okay! Are the babies okay?" Dean screamed, he attempted to push through the group of doctors though as Cas had a firm grip on his arm. Through the commotion Dean could only see glimpses of Charlie, her red hair, her face almost the same shade, an arm, the pale blue of her hospital gown. Her screams only blurred with the doctors rushed voices, and the beeping of machines. The nosies all blurring through Dean's already spinning head.

He attempted to push through the doctors one last time to get to his best friend, before giving up, collapsing into Cas's arms, who almost dragged him out of the room and back into the hallway. The sudden silence was almost worse than the screaming, sitting eerily through the empty hallway, only broken by their own low breaths.

For a second Dean wondered if he could get back in, or if the doctors had locked the door. He wanted to be there' holding Charlie's hand, being some sort of support, like he had promised he would. Instead he was being useless standing in a hallway.

"We shouldn't have asked her to do this!" Dean explained, collapsing into one of the hallway waiting chairs.

He looked up at his boyfriend, who didn't sit instead standing a few feet in front of the door. He looked exhausted, his usual tanned skin now a lighter, well his mesed hair, was even worse. Dean didn't blame Cas, they'd been in the hospital for almost a whole day, and he himself, probably looked much worse.

"And did what Dean?" Cas asked, turning towards Dean to speak, "Ask another girl to go through this for us? Charlie wanted to be our sergeant. She asked us!"

"How are you staying so f*cking calm! Our babies are in there! Our- Charlie!"

"They're doctors, they know what they're doing."

Dean groaned at his boyfriends stability, just once would he like to be the sane one. "Sit with me?" He finally asked, looking up at the other. Cas smiled, giving Dean a small nod. He came over sitting down in the chair next to Dean before he lent his head against Dean's shoulder.

Castiel took Dean's hand in his own, running his thumb across Dean's knuckles. For a second Dean could forget his worries, the panic of Charlie's almost six week early labour, the sudden declaration for a c-section. Most importantly the dread in his stomach that something would go wrong.

"I'm just worried about them," Dean said.

"I know," Cas whispered, his hot breath tickling against Dean's neck. "Is Sam going to be here soon?"

Dean shook his head, "He's got work, but he's goin'ta to try to get here in the next few hours, what about your family?"

"My dad wants me to call him once the triplets are born, and my siblings are all busy."

"All five of them?" Cas nodded, "Son of a b*tchs"

Their conversation died out after that, Castiel kept his head against Dean's shoulder while Dean tilted his head up, studying the white roof in boredom. Within minutes he had every crack and faded paint memorized. Counted in his head, then created into various shapes.

The boredom drew on as the minutes ticked by, and the silence continued. Only broken by the occasional passing of a nurse or doctor, until the sound of a door opening came. 

Dean tilted his head properly, Cas lifting his at the same time. In front of them a doctor stood, one Dean recognized from when they had first brought Charlie in hours before. He was shorter, with a balding head, and in his arms a clipboard "Hello, Mr.Novak, Mr.Winchester, how are you two doing?" he began, his voice gruff and low, much like that of a smoker.

"Exhausted" Cas replied, which the doctor gave a small laugh to.

Cas looked over at Dean with a confused frown, his head tilted slightly. From so close Dean could see the purple under Cas's eyes, and the chapping of his lips, from a habit of licking them.

Dean looked away from his boyfriend and back to the doctor. "Is it done?"

The doctor gave a small smile, nodding, "Would you like to meet your babies?"

"Of course," Dean cried, he stood, and followed the doctor back into the room, Castiel close behind. Though the room was small, with all but one doctor now bien it seemed much larger. Filled mostly with a few tables, machinery and of course the hospital bed where Charlie was sat. She was looking much better than before, with her red hair pulled back into a messy bun, her usual pale skin back, only now a tint of red. In each of her arms a bundle of blankets rested, one pink and one blue.

"Hey b*tchs," She cried looking up with a smile, "wanna see what I just pushed out of myself?"

Dean nodded, too excited to even speak. He shakingly walked forward, each step feeling more fake then the last, until he was at Charlie's side, Castiel at her other.

"Hey Bobby," Dean whispered. Slowly he reached his arms down and picked up the small bundle of blue; staring down at the small baby with absolute adoration. He could barely breath as he stared, not wanting to look anywhere else, nor thinking he could. The baby was so small in Dean's with his eyes shut, his nose scrunched. He was the cutest thing Dean has ever seen.

Dean raised his hand, carefully bringing it to the baby's face, trailing a single finger across his cheek. He'd never loved anything more, the excitement that bursted through him like nothing else. Every moment of happiness, every birthday and Christmas seeming like nothing as he stared at his son. His smile only widening as the baby made a small gurgling noise.

"I love him," Dean whispered. He looked up at Cas who was holding their baby girl, tears rolling down his tanned cheeks. Dean walked around the bed so he was at his boyfriend's side. "They're f*cking perfect."

He looked down at their daughter in Cas's arms, she was just as small as Bobby, with the same button nose, and long eyelashes that brushed across her cheeks as she slept. The only difference being that from under the pink hat she wore dark strands of hair could be seen.

"I love them," Cas whispered, still looking down at their baby girl.

Dean leant forward, pressing a quick kiss against Cas's tear stained cheek. "Me too."

"What're you going to name baby girl? Charlie asked, after Dean had pulled away from Cas, and they'd gotten another few minutes to stare at their babies.

Cas looked up from their daughter, Dean was guessing for the first time since he had picked her up, and looked towards Charlie. Against the bright hospital light his blue eyes were clear, still hazy with tears. "We're naming her Charlie."

"And the other one is June" Dean chimmened in. Slowly he looked up in sudden realization, the smile that had seemed permanent on his face suddenly dropping. He looked to Charlie whose own smile was gone, she met Dean's eyes for barely a second before looking down to her lap. "Where is she?"

"I'm sorry Dean," Charlie said. Her voice was shaky, tone barely loud enough for Dean, who stood not even a foot away to hear. The sudden change in Charlie's voice, had Cas as well looking up in confusion. The small rocking of the baby coming to a stop.

"Where is she?" Dean repeated

"There were some complications during the pregnancy." Dean turned at the sound of the doctor's voice, his stomach dropping as he met the same expression on the doctor's face, as Charlie had on her own. A lok Dean could only just pin point, grief, pity, and maybe a trace of guilt. "Unless we do testing we won't be a hundred percent sure what they were, but based on her size, and the fact that they're triplets we're guessing she didn't receive enough nutrients during the pregnancy."

Dean didn't look away from the doctor, though through the ringing of his ears he could hear the footsteps, then the breaths of Castiel at his side. Cas's warmth, the fabric of his trench coat against Dean's arm, and the way he lent just slightly into Dean, that was all he could feel other than the hammering of his own heart. Or maybe that was the breaking,

"I don't understand." He did understand. He understood more than ever wanted to, though without the words being spoken he couldn't believe it.

"Your last baby was a stillbirth."

The tears that blurred Dean's vision didn't seem to fall even with the truth ringing through his head. His grip tightened around his son. His feet staggered backwards, unwilling to stand.

"Dean, the baby!"

Bobby was taken from his arms. Then he was alone. Numb standing in the middle of the room as if he had just been handed a bomb. Cas's arms were sooned wrapped around him, and though Dean didn't want them there, he couldn't find the energy to push Cas away.

"Would you still like to see her?"

"No." Dean looked at his boyfriend in shock. Tears rolled down Cas's cheeks as his blue eyes met Dean's.

"No? Why not?"

Cas raised his hands to his mouth as a sob shook his body, his eyes closing tightly. "I can't see her." Dean stepped forward, pulling his boyfriend into a tight hug. As Cas sobbed into Dean's chest, Deans grip tightened as if the only thing keeping him standing was Castiel, and frankly as his world came crumbling around him and the weight of everything crushed his shoulder, he wasn't sure it was that far from true.

"Please don't make me see her." Cas finally choked out, when his sobs had died down and he had taken a step back from Dean. His blue eyes looked up, still hazy with tears.

"I'm not going to make you do anything Angel, I'm still going to see her though."

"Okay."

Dean turned back to the doctor, giving a half hearted smile. "right this way," He stepped away from Cas following the doctor to the other end of the room where three crib like trays were placed. "Take all the time you want," the doctor said. He gave Dean one last pity filled smile, before walking back to Charlie with his clipboard raised.

Hesitantly Dean walked forward, every inch of him screaming to turn away, that maybe, just maybe if he didn't see her, it'd be a lie. Despite the dread that tore at him he kept moving forward, only stopping when he could see his daughter resting in one of the trays. 

They'd wrapped her in the same blanket as Charlie, wearing the same pink hat. Even with all that she looked small, barely bigger than Dean's hands, and at least half the size as her siblings. Her lips were puckered out, with a defined cupid's bow that made her nose stick up slightly. Her eyes much like her siblings were rested closed as if only sleeping. As if in anytime she'd wake, make a gurgling noise like Bobby had, and let her eyes flutter open. And for just a second, as Dean stared at his daughter, he could believe it was true

Slowly Dean reached in, picking up the small bundle of blanket, and bringing it to his chest. His eyes never left her face with each motion, he wanted to look at her for as long as possible. Memorize every feature, and detail, over and over in fear that when they left her he would forget his daughter.

She didn't move as Dean stared at her, despite his wishes, the tears that had been waiting to fall slowly rolling down his cheeks, and dropping onto her blanket. He could never love anything more, not in the way he loved Bobby, or Charlie or even Cas. He loved this little girl with every inch of his being. He wanted everything for her. To sleep in one of the three cribs they had bought, to hear her first words, and watch her first steps. Most importantly he wanted her, alive in his arms.

Dean brought the girl closer to his chest as his body shook with sobs. His grip tightened as he hoping hat his own heat would warm her freezing skin, or in some miracle the sound of his own heart beat would start her's.

"I love you June bug," Dean choked out when he could finally speak. He couldn't open his eyes, he couldn't look at his daughter anymore knowing she was dead.

"I love you so much"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday everyone!!   
> I hope you're all doing great, I'm struggling from lack of sleep! but oh well! On a better note I got roller skates for my birthday!! They're awesome even though I'm pretty sure I'm going to break every bone in my body!  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you're reading my pic dear addiction another chapter still will not be coming out this week!!  
> Once again I hope you're all having a lovely Monday, and enjoyed this oneshot!  
> Lot's of love, Paige


	3. So far he passed Narnia

Trigger warnings:   
mention of child abuse, homophobia, and internalized homophobia 

It started in 1994, a few days after Dean's sixteenth birthday.

It was a simple case, just a salt and burn, but after John had made the connection that the ghost only killed gays, he turned it down, dragging Dean and Sam out of the city as fast as he could. 

The feeling had come as the impala sped along the highway, the city only a silhouette in the background. An odd feeling in Dean's gut that made him sick in a way he couldn't quite explain. Guilt. That's what he told himself, as he glanced back from the passenger seat and to the city, guilt that those innocent people were dying, and they were doing nothing. Illness, is what he told himself as those feelings came back everytime his father spat out the word faggot in disgust, or turned down a case invloving a gay couple. Broken, is what he told himself anytime his eyes lingered on another man for more than a second.

They only stayed as feelings until 2002, at the age of 23. They'd just completed a case in Arizona, him, his dad, and Lee, and maybe him and Lee had a little too much to drink, and had gotten a little to close. Their hands wandering across each other, lips connecting, then clothing was being removed, lips wandering, touch grazing. And maybe Dean knew his dad would be back soon, and that when he did he'd beat Dean until he couldn't walk for days, and maybe Dean wanted it. The reminder that the feelings had to stay away, that he was broken, and maybe that's why Sam had ran away.

He never saw Lee again after that, or had the feelings, and deep down Dean could believe he was fixed. That was all he needed was a beating that was until Castiel came. 

Then the feelings came rushing back, the guilt, the turning in his stomach, the absolute dread anytime Cas stared at him with such intensity. But it was all worth it to be with Castiel for as long as he could, watching his ocean blue eyes, the way he tilted his head, and his unusual traits that must've come from being an angel. The way he would at times stand frozen, not even breathing as if just a statue, or the lack of heat that radiated from skin, but not cold either, just nothing. All the things that made Castiel so much different than anyone else.

As the time rolled on and Dean fell further in love with Cas he began dropping hints to his brother. Unable to say the word himself and hoping that Sam would do it for him. He talked about doctor sexy, and the news as more states legalzied gay marriage. Anything that would get Sam's attention, so his brother could fix the guilt he always felt, tell him it was okay, make him feel better about himself like Sam always did.

The feeling's and stares only continued, for Cas, and then Benny, eyes lingering longer then they should, thoughts going places they shouldn't have. For the siren that had seemed like the perfect man, for victims they were helping and celebrities on tv.

The feelings only spiraled until 2015 came, a few months after Amara had brought Mary back, when Dean and Sam's life had fallen back into place. Spending most of the summer working on small cases, like normal, until one night when they were alone in a cheap motel room, the same day gay marriage had been legalized across the country. As they had worked the case, the rest of town had celebrated, the streets filled with music, dancing, and pride, more than Dean had ever seen. Everyone so themselves without fear of judgment 

"Sammy." Dean asked that night, he was sat on one of the motel beds, facing his brother who was spread across the other scrolling through his laptop "Can I talk to you?"

"Yah of course."

Sam sat up properly, putting the laptop to the side. He moved his legs over the side of the bed and faced Dean, the concern in his eyes unmistakable. "So- it's kinda important, and i've been meaning to tell you for a while."

Dean paused waiting for his brother to say something though Sam stayed silent, "I know it might be a surprise, and I know you'll be okay with it, I mean I think you will-"

"Are you going to tell me, or?"

"Im- Im a type AB blood."

Sam frowned, his eyebrows furrowing, "Why- wha- I know that."

"Well yah, but just in case you forgot."

"Dean," Sam insisted, his voice dropped slightly becoming serious. "You can tell me anything."

Dean opened his mouth but the words wouldn't come out. Why couldn't he be like the people in the streets, proud about it, loud and not caring about what others thought, why was it so hard for him. He hated himself for being who he was, and he hated himself even more for not being able to be proud about who he was. But most of all he hated the loyal part of him, the part that even now, wanted to keep his dad happy, not shatter the loyalty he'd spent his whole life building.

"I'm," Dean choked out, his vision becoming foggy with tears, Why couldn't he just fucking say. "Sammy," Dean begged

His brother didn't say anything instead he stood, and took a seat next to Dean. At first Sam hesitantly put an arm around him, but as Dean lent into the touch Sam pulled him into a tight hug. "It's okay," Sam finally whispered, "you don't have to tell me."

Dean didn't reply, his tears breaking into sobs as he gripped tightly onto his brother, holding on as if Sam was the only thing keeping him alive. He wished he was dead, or normal. Everything would've been easier if John had just killed him. 

Sam's hand rubbed across his back but it didn't nothing to calm Dean's shaking body. His face stained with tears and snot. "I'm broken," Dean finally choked out.

Sam shifted away slightly to see Dean's face though Dean kept his eyes down. His sobs had died down though tears continued to roll down his cheeks, dripping off his chin and falling to the bed. "Why would you think that."

"because-" Dean began, voice barely above a whisper. He didn't care how childish it was, sobbing on a bed at thirty six, but it was all he wanted, to shatter and for once have someone else pick up the pieces. "I'm- I'm."

He let out a shaken breath before looking up to his brother. "I'm gay."

Sam's face immediately dropped, and with it Dean's heart. The word seemed to hang in the air, leaving Dean no longer gasping for breaths but instead holding it. He shouldn't have said anything, maybe he should've brought his dad back to beat him one last time instead. "Dean-" Sam began, his voice soft, "I love you so much."

Dean lent forwrd as his brother once gaian wrapped in a tight hug, "I love you so fucking much and nothing is going to chnage that, I promise. You're my brother."

"Thank you," Dean whispered, tears beginning to fall once again though this time in relief.

"Does this mean you and Cas?"

Dean laughed nodding his head, "is that okay?"

"As long as you're happy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written because one I watched never have I ever, and fabiola making the robot say I’m gay hit me hard   
> And two Dean deserves a hug, and to break down. And I don’t mean a throw things, and swear break down, I mean tears (and lots of hugs) 
> 
> Anyways! I hope y’all had an amazing day!  
> Lots of love, paige


	4. It was suppose to be fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's 14, Sam's 10  
> Not Destiel

\- 1993 - 

"Dean," His father's voice rang through the phone as he brought it to his ear. 

"Sir."

"How's Sam?"

At first Dean didn't reply, instead glancing to the motel's bed where his brother was sprawled across playing with the few toy soldiers they had. "He's good," Dean finally replied. "He likes his new school."

"Good," There was a pause, where neither John nor Dean spoke. The silence lasting for a breath, then another, and then another. It lasted so long Dean began to shift his weight from to foot in anticipation. Had he done something wrong, was there a reason for his dad to be mad at him, Dean didn't think so, though then again John never had problems finding a reason to be mad. "Have there been any problems?"

"No, Sir."

"I know I said I'd be back tomorrow." Yesterday actually. "But i'm going to be another few days, you know what to do?"

"Take care of Sammy."

"And don't get involved with the cops."

Dean nodded despite his father not being able to see. Before he could speak again the other line cut off, replaced by a low ringing that buzzed through hsi until he placed the phone back on its stand 

He took a deep breath, though the weight on his heart was unavoidable. How stupid of him, it'd been ten years, adn he still hadn't learned his place. "Sammy," He took another hesitant breath, forcing a smile across his face, as his brother looked up. "What'd you want for dinner?" 

"McDonalds!" 

They didn't have the money for that, Dean had spent it all buying groceries,school supplies for Sam. Even the food supply Dean had bought had become thin. "How about we eat here tonight, and when dad gets back we can go to mcdonalds?" Dean suggested. "Okay?"

"Okay," The disappointment in Sam's voice was clear though Dean chose to ignore it, there was nothing he could do about it. 

"So what do you want?"

"Mac n' cheese?"

"Sounds awesome." Dean walked to the motel's small kitchen, pulling open the top cupboards in search of pasta. When he couldn't find it in the one, he moved to the next and then next, only finding a few slices of bread, half a box of cereal, milk and cheese. They had much less food then Dean had thought.

He glanced back to his brother, lips pressed in a tight line, he'd already said no once, he didn't want to do it again. "Hey Sammy," Dean called, getting his brother's attention. "Do you know how the french make mac n' cheese?"

"No?"

"With cereal."

"Ew!" Sam cried, scrunching his face in disgust.

"It's not gross, it's fancy as shit," Dean defended. "Too fancy for you."

"No," Sam got up from the bed, joining Dean in the kitchen. He looked down to his brother, Sam looking back up with his wide brown eyes, his brown hair had become shaggy, and uneven, causing a few strands to fall in his face. Dean would have to give him a haircut soon. "It's too fancy for you!"

"I didn't say ew."

"I want to try it!"

"Then go sit your ass down."

When his brother had ran off to the kitchen table, Dean turned back to the kitchen, a small sigh parting his lips. He didn't need to try it to know microwaved cheese, and cereal was going to be disgusting.

Slowly he got out two bowls, filling each with cereal and cheese, before he put them in the microwave. A minute later he pulled out the soggy mess of cheese, and cereal, and placed one bowl in front of Sam, keeping the other for himself. 

"How was school?" Dean asked. He dug his fork into the mess of food, and brought it to his lips, hesitating at first to take a bite, though the hesitation was only for seconds before the hunger one, and he began eating. 

Sam shrugged, "good."

"That's it? Just good?" Dean watched as his brother ate, Sam's gaze staying on the bowl in front of him. "Have you still been talkin' to that Claire girl? She seemed nice."

"Yah she's nice."

There was a moment of silence, where Sam continued to stare at his food, with an unreadable expression, something Dean didn't like. His own gaze staying locked on his brother, waiting for some king of explanation, for a moment, and then another. 

"Alright," Dean finally said, when he could no longer handle the silence. "Start talkin'."

"What?"

"You're bein' quiet, tell me what's goin' on."

Sam hesitated, his gaze finally meeting Dean's only dropped back to his food seconds later. "tomorrow's our school's parent day."

Dean's lips parted, the words not seeming to come no matter how hard he tried, not that he even knew what he wanted to say. "I-" He began, "I can try callin' dad, but i don't kn-"

"I didn't want dad to come," Sam cut Dean off, "I wanted you to." 

"Me?" That was the only word Dean could speak, and even then it didn't come out as much more than a whisper. "Are you sure Sammy, I can call dad."

"I want you to."

Dean smiled as his gaze stayed locked with his brother's, "well, I'd love to come."

~

The next day was warm. The sky above a clear blue, with the sun glaring down on them, something that had only made Sam more excited for his schools parent day which consisted of outdoor games, music, and food. Tons of food, from baked goods, to pizza, all which though cheap, cost money, much to Dean's disappointment. To raise money for charity, Sam had said, bullshit, Dean had replied. 

Despite the fact that the last of his money was going for buying Sam food, Dean still lingered around the food table any chance he'd gotten, his stomach growling, and head spinning. He hadn't eaten anything since the day before, and now past lunch the hunger was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

"Dean," at the sound of his brother's voice Dean's gaze dropped from the women he'd been watching, and down to Sam, who looked back up with a grin. "Come play basketball with me and my friends."

"Yah, sure." Dean looked back to the women, his gaze glancing across her features. She was well put together, wearing a black white pocket dress that puffed up around her shoulders, and a large red hat to top it all off. She was stood at one of the food tables, a gloved hand raised, as she looked across the pastries, her purse placed on the table, unzipped, and unsupervised. "I'll meet you there in a few minutes."

Dean didn't wait for his brothers response instead walking past Sam and to the table, a few feet from the women.

She was talking to the teacher behind the table, as Dean took a step closer to her. Then another, his gaze staying on the pastries at the table. Then another step, one hand raised to his jeans pocket, where he had stored a bracelet he'd stolen from another woman a few minutes previous.

When Dean had gotten close enough to the women's bag, Dean slowly raised his arm from his pocket, reaching out to one of the cookies. He let his hand linger above the food for a moment before he pulled it back to his side, his elbow crashing into the women's bag, sending it tumbling to the floor, it's contents spilling out. 

"Oh shit." Dean cried. He crouched to the ground, immediately beginning to collect her things. "I'm so sorry mam'"

"Oh, It's alright," the woman said in a shrill voice. Dean glanced up as the woman's own gaze darted back to the teacher, to laugh at something.

With her no longer watching, Dean quickly stuffed her wallet into his jacket pocket, before putting the rest of her items backs into her purse. "I'm so sorry again," Dean said as he stood, handing the women her purse.

"Things happen."

Dean gave what hoped was a reassuring smile, before turning away, keeping a casual pace as he walked away. Between the women's wallet, a second wallet he'd stolen a few hours before, and whatever he could get from pawning the bracelet, there should be at least a hundred dollars. More than enough to keep Sam eating. 

"Young man."

Dean didn't stop, keeping his head forward, and a relaxed posture. She couldn't be talking to him, there were tons of others she could be talking to.

"Young man."

He could hear the sound of clicking heels behind him, and then a harsh grip at his upper arm, forcing Dean to stop in place. 

Shit. 

"You stole my wallet," the woman cried. She pulled Dean's arm so he faced her. She was a cat-like woman, with sharp features, and haunting eyes that Dean stared back at, his gaze not faltering no matter how harshly she glared.

Dean attempted to pull his arm back from her grip though the woman only dug her nails further into his arm. "Why would I even want your dirty money, you bitch."

"Where's your father."

"Fuckin' your mom."

The women's expression dropped, and for a moment Dean could only grin back in victory. 

Dean's grin stayed until the woman's bright red lips once again aparted, her voice it's usual shrill tone. "William," she cried, getting the attention of a man who'd been crouched with a child a few feet away.

Dean's gaze immediately went to the man who walked towards him. He was large, at least double Dean's height, and triple his weight, though with the amount Dean ate that wasn't hard. His head was shaved, and the rough expression across his face was the stereotypical kind Dean had seen often on Tv. 

"What's the problem?" The man asked in a low voice. 

His eyes rested on Dean iin a harsh glare, one similar to Johns. One that caused Dean to almost step back and let his gaze drop, confess to stealing the wallet, and move on before anything else came of it.

Though Dean didn't do anything, and instead the woman pulled him forward, closer to the large man. "This brat stole my wallet."

He could feel his heart hammering as the man took a step forward, towering over Dean.

"I didn't take shit," Dean defended. Despite his hammering heart, Dean continued to glare up at the man, his one free hand, going from his jean pocket and slowly to his leather jacket's pocket, where he stored his pocket knife.

"Why're you lying to me?"

"I'm not lying," Dean snapped back. "I'm not some thief."

The man didn't reply, instead grabbing Dean by his shoulder, and forcing his jacket off, despite Dean's protests. "Give that back," Dean cried. He took a step forward though as the man sent him a harsh glare Dean quickly stopped in his tracks. Either way he still had the bracelet, and a second wallet in the waistband of his pants.

The man dug his hand into Dean's one pocket, pulling out his pocket knife, with a raised eyebrow. "Be careful with that," Despite Dean's words,vhe man let the knife fall to the ground, before moving onto the jacket's second pocket. 

"You were right," The man began. He pulled the woman's wallet from the pocket, raising it for Dean to clearly see. "You aren't just some thief, you're a liar too."

"So what'cha you goin' to do 'bout it, beat me?" Dean glanced to the women who now stood a foot or so away from them, a harsh glare still resting across her features. "Cause I could kick you and your wife's ass."

"I'm going to start by callin' the cops."

Dean felt his heart stop, eyes widening. "No," He cried, not caring to hide the panic that was so clear in his voice. "I ain' taken anything else."

"You didn't," the woman corrected, causing Dean to roll his eyes. God he hated people. "You didn't take anything else."

"Fine, Dean took a deep breath. "I didn't take anything else. You've got your wallet back, so there ain't a need to get the pigs involved."

"What can't own up to your mistakes?" The man dropped the jacket to Dean's feet.

Slowly with his eyes still on the other, Dean courched to the ground, first picking up his jacket, which he wrapped around his body, and then sliding the knife back into his pocket. 

His eyes stayed on the man for a breath, and then another, before without a second of hesitation Dean began sprinting. His feet pounding against the grass as he ran across the school's field, head spinning from the lack of food, and heart pounding through his ears, though he didn't give himself a second to even look back. He needed to put as much distance between him and the man as possible, and find his brother.

"Sam." Dean cried as he ran around the outside of the school, finding his brother at a small basketball hoop with a few other kids. 

Dean stopped a few feet away from the kids gasping for breaths, as Sam came to see him, a concerned expression across his young features. "Dean," Sam questioned. He looked up with his wide puppy dogs eyes, causing a pain to weigh on Dean's heart. "What's wrong?"

"We've gotta get goin'."

"Monsters?"

"Worse," Dean took one last deep breath, hoping it would be enough to fill his lungs, before they started running again. The man didn't seem to be chasing him but Dean wasn't willing to risk the staying. "Cops, we need t'leave."

"Now?" her cold heart the pain in Sam's voice, though Dean didn't have the time to fix that.

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

Sam didn't give another argument, and instead let Dean grab his hand and pull him away from the school. 

Hand in hand, Dean dragged his brother behind as he attempted to put as much distance between them and the school as possible, before the cops would come. Don't get the cops involved, that had been one of the two things his dad had always asked of him. Do anything as long as the cops don't get involved, and yet Dean had failed the most simple of tasks. 

They continued to run long after Dean's feet ached, and the corners of his vision had become blurring, even so he would have continued to run if Sam hadn't stopped, gasping for breaths.

"Comeon, Sammy," Dean encouraged as his younger brother stopped. "We gotta get back to the motel."

Sam didn't reply, instead looking up with his wide eyes, and slightly puckered out the lips, looking so small in Dean's old t-shirt, and flannel. "Sam-" Dean took a hesitant breath, he really fucked up. With his dad, and the one thing Sam had been excited about. "We can walk the rest of the way."

Sam gave the smallest nod in agreeance.

Neither of them spoke as they began walking street, Dean weighed down by guilt. Of course he had to fuck up the one thing Sam had been excited about. If he had just given the wallet back, or had been a bit more careful taking it. If he had done anything different maybe things would have been okay. 

The beating of his heart still rang through his ears, as his gaze stayed forward, darting to every movement, and new car that passed, until it landed on a familiar golden arches. 

"Sammy," Dean asked hesitantly, getting the attention of his brother. "Do you still wanta go to Mcdonalds?" 

"Yah?"

"Here, Dean stopped walking. He pulled the wallet from his waistband pulling out a ten dollar bill, there were a few bills left, enough for Sam's dinner and two bus tickets. "Buy each of us a burger."

Sam took the money, glancing at it, then Dean, then back to the money, with his mouth a gap. "Really?"

"Yah," Dean replied. "I gotta make a call so i'll meet you there in a few minutes."

Sam didn't waste another second before grabbing the money, and running off to the fast food place. Dean followed behind slowly, stopping once he found an old phone booth a block or so away. 

He pushed a few dimes into the phone, then pressed his thumb to the number's, as he brought the phone to his ear. A ringing filled his head, his heart still hammering against his chest. 

He didn't want to talk to his dad.

Another ring. 

Hear the yelling that would surely come.

Another ring. 

Or the disappointment that would lace John's words.

Another ring, and then a robotic voicemail.

"Hey," Dean whispered, his voice seeming to echo in the silent box. "It's Dean." 

"I- there were some problems with the cops, so me and Sammy are goin't Bobby's, I'll see you there."

A hesitant breath filled his lungs, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment, before his lips parted. "Stay safe."

After hanging up the phone Dean gave himself one more minute to stand alone in the box. Nothing more, nothing less, before he got out, and made his way to mcdonals, where he found Sam eating in the far corner. 

Dean took a seat across from his brother, unwrapping his own burger and taking a bite. His gaze had yet to meet the other's as Sam seemend insistent on staring at the table, not looking up even as Dean stared at him.

"Sorry I fucked up," Dean finally whispered, when the silence was no longer bearable. Sam looked upm, his brown eyes meeting Dean's, wide, exhausted, holding a look to them that Dean couldn't quite explain. 

"It's okay."

The words were spoken without emotions, the guilt that had controlled Dean's stomach only worse than before. "I really am sorry," Dean repeated. When Sam didn't reply, Dean looked down to his own half eaten burger, not bringing it to his lips, despite his growling stomach. 

"Dean," the word was spoken so softly he almost didn't hear it. Dean looked back up to his brother, the smallest smile now across Sam's lips. "Wanna know how the french eat burgers?"

"Fuck yah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being much longer then I had originally expected and it isn’t even that good but oh well???   
> I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Lots of love, paige


	5. You have orbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester is usually good at flirting, it just doesn’t seem to be that way when it comes to Castiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teenager AU

"You're a chicken."

"Am not!"

Sam lent forward, pressing his elbows to the table top, while a smirk tugged at his lips, "then talk to him." 

"No." 

"It's because you're a chicken isn't it?" 

Dean looked down to his coffee. His heart was racing and he hadn't even gotten within five feet of castiel, hands sweaty against the white mug. 

This wasn't how things were suppose to work, he was suppose to be good at asking people out and flirting, he'd done it millions of times before, but Castiel? The brilliant teen that sat in the back of his math class, he was different. He wasn't just another hookup, another girl that Dean could spend a party dancing with. He was kind, and funny, and sent Dean's nerves running in ways that they had never before. 

"I'm not nervous," Dean replied, though the words sounded fake even to himself, "I just don't have anything to say to him." 

"Tell him he has pretty eyes." 

Dean looked away from his brother and towards Cas, who was stood behind the coffee shop counter, no costumers in line. "I'm going to do it," Dean declared. Slowly he stood eyes still on his bother, unable to look back to Cas in fear that their eyes would meet. Then what would Dean do, probably kill himself. "I'm going to do it."

With out another word he turned and made his way through the quiet coffee shop, heart hammering in his chest, the palms of his hands still clammy with sweat.

"Hello Dean" Castiel greeted as Dean stopped in front of the counter. Dean's gaze darted across the other, across Cas's usual tussled hair, along his warm skin, that only seemed to glow against the dark green he wore, and finally to his eyes. His dark blue eyes, that were so vibrate it was hard to imagine they were real, so captivating Dean couldn't drop the other's gaze. 

Dean's breath stuck in his throat, as his eyes stayed on Cas's the though of looking anywhere else not once crossing his mind. "I-" Dean began, unsure how to continue, the hammering of his heart to distracting to keep his thoughts straight. 

Something. Anything. He just had to speak. 

"You have eyes." 

Shit. 

A frown grazed Cas's lips as he tilted his head to the side. It was cute with his eyes squinted and nose scrunched the slightest bit. "I do." 

"I think they're pretty."

"oh." A small smile had spread across Cas's lips though it did nothing to calm Dean's racing heart. If anything it only made the beating worse, ringing through Dean's, as his breath stayed hitched in his throat. "Thank you."

Dean gave a forced nod before turning away from the other, one word ringing through his head as he walked back to Sam. Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

"How'd it go?" Sam asked as Dean took a seat back at their table. A wide grin was spread across his face, lighting his wide eyes, a look that made Dean want to roll his own. "Should I start wedding planning?" 

"It went like shit." 

"But he was smiling!" 

"Can we just go?" 

Without another argument Sam stood, Dean following behind as they walked back to the coffee shops entrance. Dean's stomach turning with unease, a hot flare of blush across his neck. He could feel eyes on him though he refused to look up. Not after how bad he'd fucked up. 

"Dean!" He didn't look up, continuing to keep his head down was they walked to the entrance.

"Dean!"

"Dean!" After the third call Dean finally looked up his gaze falling on Castiel who walked towards them, a to go cup in his one hand. "You forgot your coffee."

"but I didn't -" Before Dean could finish the cup was being forced into his hands, and Cas, without another word, was speed walking away. "I didn't order coffee."

"He likes you."

A frown grazed Dean's lips as he looked back to his brother, then following Sam's gaze to the coffee cup in his hand.

I think your eyes are pretty as well 

The words had been printed across the side of the cup, standing out in a bold black ink, burning against Dean's gaze. It was all he could look at, rereading the words over and over as if the next time he did they would have changed, though no matter how many times Dean did they stayed the same. 

Maybe he hadn't completely fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a dumb not oneshot that I wrote last year,  
> It’s not even good, but it’s happy and I don’t know about you guys but I really need happy right now  
> Lots of love, paige


	6. I'm a few months late or pride month 2.0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick one shot based off of fan art of Castiel with pride flags by @/bogtree_ on Instagram. I HIGHLY recommend you check out their art it's incredible  
> (also let's just ignore the fact that I don't know how to add photos on AO3)

“What’s going on?” Castiel asked, stopping just as he and the two hunters rounded the corner, going from a quiet street, to a much busier one. The music they'd heard from a distance, now blaring, a large crowd of people walking up and, dressed head to toe in bright colours. Reds, Blues, Pinks. Cas had never seen so much colour in one place. 

He heard Sam clear his throat from his left. “It looks like the pride festival.”

Cas’s gaze stayed on the colours for another moment, darting across the crowd, trying to see as much as he could, though it was almost impossible to see it all. There were so many various flags, colours, noises, laughter, happy chatter. It was impossible to stop the small smile that tugged at his lips

“We should go.” Cas finally declared. He turned to Dean, though his boyfriends gaze was on Sam, then on the ground, until finally he met Cas’s gaze, his green eyes holding an emotion Cas couldn’t quite describe. Not that he ever fully understood human’s emotions.

There were small things he had learned. Smiles usually meant happy, blushing meant embarrassment, though even still it was hard to fully understand. There was so much to understand. Especially when it came to Dean, who tried hard to make his emotions impossible to understand. 

“I don’t know,” Dean began, his tone hesitant as he glanced back to the festival. Despite that Cas continued to stare watching his boyfriend shift in discomfort? Anxiety? Anticipation? Cas wasn’t sure “We’ve gotta get going to the next case, and Baby needs a quick tune up...”

“Come on Dean,” Sam said. “We’ll just stay for a few minutes and then get on the road.”

“Fine,” Dean snapped. “If you both want to go so fuckin bad you can go together,” Cas didn’t reply, instead continuing to glance across Dean’s features, his tightened jaw, and clneched fists. “I’ll get us snacks, you two have fun, and we’ll meet back here in half an hour, okay?”

“Uh yah, sure?” Sam mustered, Dean giving a small nod in response. 

For a moment Cas’s heart skipped, as Dean stepped towards, raising his arms for a hug. Though just as fast as that moment came it was gone, as Dean realized what he was doing, and instead turned, walking away without another word. 

That’s how it was always was when in public. Dean wouldn’t hold Cas’s hand, or do the playful shoulder nudges he would in the bunker. He wouldn’t give hugs, or kisses, or smiles, or shoulder taps. Some days it went as far as Dean wouldn’t even look in Cas’s direction. 

It hurt. 

That’s what humans would call the dull pain in Cas’s stomach, the way it twisted when Dean stepped away, or chose to sit on the other side of the cafe's booth. It hurt. It caused pain. It made him wonder what he had done wrong. 

He couldn’t complain though.

He couldn’t force Dean.

He could only hope things would change. 

“Come on.” Cas finally looked away from the direction Dean had walked off and back to Sam, the other man already stepped towards the crowd. 

Cas silently followed Sam through the crowd, from booth to booth. His eyes constantly darting across the crowd, across certain people who wore fun makeup, or other’s who wore glittery outfits. He couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere else, not wanting to miss a second, of the bright colours, the fun chatter, or the crowd that seemed to buzz with energy. 

Humans truly were incredible. Cas 

“Uh Cas,” Sam began, when they’d stepped to a small booth that gave them a bit of silence from the crowd. Despite Sam speaking, Cas didn’t look to him, instead his gaze staying on the table that was set up, darting across the bright pins that were being sold. “I think we should talk about Dean for a sec.”

A frown tugged at Cas’s lips as he finally looked up to Sam, meeting the other’s uncertain expression. “Why?”

“I just want you to understand-” Sam hesitated. “He does love you, he really does, a whole lot. He just has trouble showing it, you know. Our dad wasn’t always openly affectionate, or the biggest ally.”

“I understand.”

“He’s talked to you about?”

“No, but based on everything I know about you two, it was easy to make the assumption.”

Sam’s lips parted to speak, though before he could Cas turned away looking back to the table of bright pins. He continued to stare, until a cup at the other end of the table caught his attention, small flags filling it, some rainbow, some shades of pinks and oranges, other’s mixes of various colours. 

He reached his hand out grabbing the closest rainbow flag, eyes staying on the fabric that nod fluttered slightly in the gust of wind. From his right her could hear Sam clear his throat, “I can buy it if you’d like,” Sam offered.

“Thank you, Sam.” 

Cas once again reached his hand out grabbing the bisexual flag before he turned back to Sam, who looked back with a frown, eyes not meeting Cas’s and instead stayed on the flags in Cas’s hands. “Two?”

“For Dean,” Cas replied.

He could see Sam hesitant as he pulled out his wallet money, an uncertain look across his features. “Cas,” Sam began, voice raised more than usual, “are you sure- I mean Dean’s pretty, you know.”

A frown tugged as Cas’s own lips as he tilted his head to the side, continuing to stare at Sam. He really didn’t understand, though it wasn’t like he often did, when it came to the Winchesters the words they said were rarely what they meant. For example when Dean said fuck me, it was rarely ment litteral, and instead meant he was frustered with himself, the same for fuck you. It rarely meant literal, and was said when Dean was frustrated with Cas. 

“No, Sam I don’t.”

Another hesitation came from the other, before Sam gave a tight smile. “I’ll buy them if you think it’s a good idea.”

“I do.”

~

Dean leant against the side of the impala, a smile spreading across his face as he watched Cas appear form around the corner, Sam at his side. The angel had a smile across his face, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes, and lit up his whole face, the kind Dean saw so rarely, but absolutely adored. 

“Hey,” Dean greeted as the other two approached, his own lips tugging a smile, eyes still on Cas. “You guys have fun?” 

“Uh yah,” Dean looked to his brother, his smile faltering at the hesitation in Sam's voice. His brother’s features sat in uncertainty, lips in a frown, eyes darting across Dean, hand fumbling with the sleeve of his jacket. What the fuck had happened. “Cas- he got you something.”

Dean looked back to Cas as the other stepped forward, raising his hand to offer Dean a small bisexual flag. 

Shit.

Dean looked from the flag back to Cas’s face, then to the flag, then around the empty streets. He wasn’t sure where to look, nothing seeming to calm the twisting feeling in his stomach, or the sudden hammering of his heart, so loud he was sure Sam could hear it. Cas could definitely. 

Fucking angels and their super hearing. 

“Uh thanks,” Dean finally mustered. 

Despite his words Dean didn’t move, Cas’s head tilting as Dena continued to stand frozen. “Do you like it?”

He could feel his heart burn in pain as Cas’s once wide smile dropped, his blue eyes still burning against Dean in an intense stare. A mix of emotions spiralign through his head. Guilt. Anxiety. Hate.

He’d checked the streets seconds ago, it was just the three of them. 

No one would see. It would be okay 

A hesitant breath parted Dean’s lips as he raised his hand, forcing himself to take the flag from Cas’s grip, his gaze staying locked on the other. “Yah,” Dean said, a smile spreading across his face, matching Cas’s. 

They were so close.

No one other than Sam around.

He could do it.

Without a second thought Dean lent forward, pressing a quick kiss to Cas’s cheek. “I love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm a little late on the whole pride month thing, but let's just ignore that! October's pretty much pride month the sequel anyways!  
> I'm also hoping to finish another sam and dean oneshot within the next few days so yah... at this point I'm considering just making a separate oneshot book for my Sam and Dean ones, but I don't know!  
> I hope you all had a great first of October!  
> -Paige 
> 
> Tumblr- 221Castiel  
> Wattpad- 221Castiel


	7. Day 8 - Heartless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~Sam and Dean~
> 
> Sometimes Sam's a little heartless when it comes to his brother

Sam glanced around the small group he stood with, gaze darting from one boy to the next as they passed around a cigarette, there were only four of them in total it wouldn’t be long till it got to him. He probably should say no, Dean would kill him if he smelt even a trace of smoke on Sam’s clothing. He probably should say no but he didn’t think he could. Maybe the school bell would ring first, though as Sam glanced over his shoulder it seemed the school was perfectly content with sitting in silence.

“Sam?” He turned at the sound of his name, giving a small hum in response.

“Do you want to go get some food with us?” The one boy, Mathew asked. 

Sam’s lips parted as his gaze darted across Mathew’s pale hair, and dark hair, before he looked to the next boy, Jason, and then the next Christian. He finally looked back to Mathew, still unsure how to reply. “What about class?” Sam finally mustered

“It’s just history.”

That was true, Sam was doing well in history, really well, he could afford to miss one day. More importantly he couldn’t disappoint his new friends, it was hard enough being the new kid, again, Sam usually ended up talking with whatever other kid didn’t have friends, but this time. These boys were cool.

Besides, it was just one day. 

Finally Sam gave a nod of his head, receiving a smile from the other boys. They liked him, he had to keep them liking him.

It was just one day.

That was all Sam could tell himself as he followed his friends, through the school parking lot. He was doing really well in the class, that thought continued as they walked down the street, the group laughing at some dumb joke. John wouldn’t find out, Sam would make sure of that. 

Sam stopped the moment the other boys did, his gaze going from the cement sidewalk and to the bar they now stood in front of. The building was old, much like the rest of the small town, built from chipping wood, with a sign hanging from the roof that looked on the verge of falling. 

“Are you sure we’re allowed in?” Sam asked as Christian- maybe his name was Kameron, pushed open the front door. 

The other boys laugh, Sam’s gaze immediately darting across them. Shit he messed. “It’s okay,” Mathew said. He rested a hand on Sam’s shoulder, leading him into the bar. “My parents own the place.”

Sam didn’t make another argument, instead allowing himself to be led to a small booth at the front of the building. 

“Did you see Cassidy today?” Jason asked as they all took a seat in the booth, Sam facing the front door. It didn’t help though as every time he heard it creak his gaze immediately went there as if John would be the next one to walk through. He’d left a few days before, there was no way he’d already be back. 

“Yah,” Christine? Kameron? Maybe it was Patrick. Replied. “She looked hot.”

Sam’s gaze went back to his friends, specifically Jason. One of his ears were pierced the black stud clear against his blond hair, would Dean let him get one probably not. Dean would probably kill him for even thinking about it. 

“She’s a slut.” Mathew said 

Jason rolled his eyes, “in a hot way.” 

Mathew opened his mouth to reply, though before he could a loud crash came from behind Sam, followed by men’s laughter. The once easy look that had rested across the others face was gone, now replaced by a clear annoyance. “He’s back.”

“Who-” Sam began as he turned his head, eyes immediately landing on the pool table at the far end of the bar, and then to Dean who was sat on the floor laughing. Shit.

One of the men was helping Dean up, Dean stumbling slightly, as he did, a cue stick in hand. Shit. Shit. Shit. Was all Sam could think as he watched his brother make a terrible attempt at hitting the white ball, instead his stick went flying out to the right allowing the other man to take his turn and win.

Sam turned back to his friends not needing to watch to know what would happen next. He’d seen it a few times before, Dean would beg for a rematch, raise his bet, then kick the other’s ass in no more than five minutes. 

“I don’t know what he’s doing here.” Mathew continued as Sam looked back to the other, teeth chewing at his bottom lip

Shit. 

“Or how in hell he can afford the alcohol,” Jason mumbled. 

Sam’s gaze dropped to his lap. It was easier to stare at his fiddling thumbs, over his friends. Though even still it didn’t stop the unsease in his stomach, something that didn’t seem to leave no matter how many times Sam reassured himself. 

“Sam,” He looked up at the sound of his name, to Christian, no, was it Kaleb, it was definitely Kaleb. “you good?”

“Uh yah, that’s just-” Sam raised a hand, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s my brother.” 

All at once the boys’ expressions dropped, all eyes on Sam. Shit, he messed up, again. He was going to lose them, he could see it across their tense posture, the way their lips sat in a tight line, unsure what to say. He was going to lose them. He couldn’t lose them. 

“You guys are right, he’s a fuckin’ alcoholic.” Sam quickly said, though it did nothing to relive the tense atmosphere. “He should be using his money to buy some clothing that actually fit.” That was a low blow, and Sam knew it. Dean had clothing that fit, though after Sam had grown, Dean had given it all to him, and instead took some of their father’s old clothing for himself. 

It was a low blow, though it did get a small laugh, some ease to the table. 

The continued jabs at his brother soon fell with ease, the other boys laughing along, all eyes on Sam as he poked snide comments at his brother; his lack of relationships both romantically and platonically, clothing, appearance, dedication to their father. It worked well, Sam kept his friends, and Dean would never know. It worked well, until Mathew offered to get them some food, and asked Sam for help. 

Slowly Sam stood, his gaze immediately darting to the pool table, where his brother was nowhere to be found. He had to be somewhere, though no table, or bar stool was vacated by Dean, he must be in some corner, with a girl underneath him.

“You comin?” Sam looked back to Mathew, who had an eyebrow raised. He could only force a nod as he hesitantly followed his friend across the bar and towards the kitchen, his breath caught in his throat the whole time. Heart hammering. 

He didn’t relax until they’d reached the kitchen's entrance where they stopped, the doorway giving them a bit of privacy from the rest of the room. 

Mathew was barely a foot away from Sam, so close he could see the rise and fall of the other boy's chest, feel his intense stare as the other’s eyes stayed locked on Sam’s. Why they weren’t moving, Sam couldn’t be sure, though there was an electricity to the air that made him too scared to ask.

“Is it true?” Mathew asked, in such an eerily low voice, Sam couldn't help but take the smallest step back. “Your brother, is he a faggot?” 

Sam’s lips parted his eyes locked on Mathew’s unable to look anywhere else. He couldn’t move. He could barely breathe, the tight doorway squeezing out any air that had once filled his lungs. 

Sam closed his mouth, before his lips immediately parted once again, unsure how to reply. 

Dean and him rarely had actual fights, though when they did there were certain things Sam knew he couldn’t mention. Their mom. John’s abuse. Dean’s struggle at school. This was more than joking about Dean’s sex addiction, or poor appearance, or even his drinking habits. This felt like crossing a line Sam knew he shouldn’t. 

“What,” Sam finally mustered, voice weak and uncertain. 

“I heard my sister talking with her friend,” Mathew explained. “She said he wouldn’t sleep with her cause he’s a fag.”

Sam’s mouth opened again. He’d seen Mathew’s sister, tanned skin, curves, big breasted, wavy dark hair. She was definitely Dean’s type, though most girls were. “Uh-” Sam began his friend staring back with a raised eyebrow. Shit, Sam really needed to say something. “Yes?”

“Yah.” Sam repeated this time his voice steadier, more confident. Despite that his stomach still twisted, the distance feeling of guilt, that he was doing something wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t be bashing Dean so hard, but his friends bashed their siblings, he was just having fun. It was just for fun. 

Mathew’s gaze dropped down Sam, before once again meeting his eyes. “That explains a lot.”

“What?”

“The alcoholism, the no friends thing,” Sam could only dumbly nod along, as his friend listed back everything that Sam had told them about his brother. He couldn’t listen to it any longer, maybe he’d admitted too much about Dean. 

“It’s really weird,” Sam interrupted, mind buzzing. He didn't know what else to say. “The whole faggot thing.” 

Mathew nodded, “my dad thinks they should all die.”

Sam couldn’t find his voice to say that his dad thought the same thing.

There was a moment of awkward silence, Sam shifting slightly, glancing back to the booth they’d walked from, while Mathew stared back at him. “I’ll order us some drinks and food,” Mathew finally began, much to Sam’s relief, he didn’t know how much more of the silence he could take. “Then you can help me carry it back?”

“Sure.”

Once Mathew had walked into the kitchen, Sam’s gaze dropped to his boots trying to keep his thoughts distracted from the other things that pestered at the back of his mind. The guilt. The dread. The fabric of his shoes brought none of those things.

They were hand-me-downs from Dean, and it was obvious, with a hole forming on one boot, the laces now in strings, the soles falling apart, Dean had always been rough on his shoes. It bothered Sam he couldn’t have his own pair, ones he could keep nice, and clean.

From his right, over the low chatter of people, he could hear the sound of footsteps approaching, though his gaze stayed on his boots until an all to familiar voice spoke. 

“Sam,” he instantly looked up as his name was spat, heart stopping at the sight of Dean in front of him. Dean who was clearly furious. “Out.” His brother spat, voice so harsh Sam couldn’t find the words to reply. “Now.”

When Sam didn’t as much as move, Dean grabbed his wrist, dragging him out the bar, stopping once they’d gotten to the sidewalk.

Sam’s heart hadn’t calmened, though he couldn’t quite figure out what he should be most panicked about. Dean finding him skipping class, Dean finding him skipping class in a bar, Dean making a scene in said bar, Dean possibly hearing what Sam had said. Sam hoped, to any god there may be, Dean hadn’t heard 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean spat looking down with a harsh glare, Sam only glaring back, though with Dean a few inches taller it didn’t exactly give the effect he’d hoped for. Fuckin’ Dean and his fuckin’ height. “You’re supposed to be in school, not at some bar.”

“I was trying to have some fun,” Sam defended.

That didn’t seem to calm Dean if anything he seemed even more annoyed, his jaw clenched, and eyes narrowed, a crease forming between his eyebrows. Sam’s own fists clenched. “You’re fifteen you should be at school.” 

“You dropped out at sixteen!” 

“You’re supposed to be smarter than me.” Dean replied, his voice, though harsh, steady, something that only made Sam’s blood boil. Why did Dean have to be so controlling, Sam was fifteen he could make his own decisions.. 

“You’re right!” Sam snapped. “I am smarter then you so I should deserve a day with my friends.”

There was a second where Dean’s features faltered, where his angered expression dropped into pain? Hurt? Sam didn’t know, though it was gone just as fast as it had come, and soon Dean was once again glaring. “You’re right, have fun with your friends.” Dean said as he stepped back. “Don’t let this faggot stop you.”

Shit.

Shit. 

“Dean,” Sam began as the other turned away. “Wait!” 

He jogged to catch up with Dean, who had made no attempt to slow his pace. “Dean,” Sam continued, trying to get the other’s attention. He looked up to his brother, who’s gaze stayed forward. “It was just a joke, you know? I didn’t mean it.”

No reply, Dean’s jaw staying firmly clenched.

“Dean please.”

Again no reply.

That’s how it stayed for the rest of the walk to the motel, Dean looking forward, not speaking a word, while Sam had to practically jog next to him to keep up. Even once they’d reached the motel Dean’s silent treatment continued as he took a seat in front of the tv not moving until a few hours later. 

Dean finally stood walking in silence to the kitchen, Sam watching from the one motel bed. He’d spent the past hours anxiously glancing between his book and Dean. His stomach twisting the whole time, threatening to throw up whatever he’d eaten, keeping his muscles tense. He felt nothing short of sick. 

Utterly horrified.

Ridden with guilt. 

Slowly he placed his book on the bedside table before he followed Dean to the motel's small kitchen, taking a seat at the table. For a moment Sam only watched his brother grab a beer from the fridge, taking a sip as he got out a pot and the pasta.

“School was good,” Sam finally said, in an attempt to lighten the stif atmosphere, talk the way they always did when Dean made dinner. Dean would ask how school had gone. He’d tease Sam for being a nerd when he said good, and then ask what he’d learned about. Only to then tease Sam more.

Despite the teasing Sam was almost sure Dean enjoyed hearing about the things he'd learned. Always asking questions, urging Sam to further explain certain things, seeming just as interested as Sam himself. Of course he’d never suggest that to his brother, if Sam was right Dean wouldn’t admit it. 

“You went for an hour,” Dean mumbled. 

The harshness in Dean’s voice made Sam pause, his gaze glancing across his brother, though he could only see Dean’s back. John’s old leather jacket hung loosely around his thin frame. “I stayed for chemistry.” 

No reply. 

“We’re doing formula balancing,” He continued, “It’s kinda hard but I think I’ve figured it out.” Sam paused again. He hated the silence, the way it made the guilt weigh further on his chest, ringing through his head, every breath seeming too loud, every shift echoing, the wood of the seat he sat on creaking. It was uncomfortable, especially when Dean was usually so loud. “Maybe,” Sam began slowly, the uncertainty in his voice clear even to himself. “Maybe I could show you after dinner, I have a few worksheets in my bag that-”

Before Sam could continue Dean had turned around. He walked over to the table, Sam’s muscles tense as a bowl of pasta was placed in front of him.

Sam’s gaze stayed locked on his brother’s face. He hated how Dean’s features sat, emotionless, unreadable, lips pressed in a tight line, and jaw locked. His shoulders back in a stiff, perfect posture, a similar stance to when their dad was around. 

“Aren’t you eating with me?” Sam asked, when instead of sitting across from him Dean walked off to his duffle bag that sat on the pull couch where he was sleeping. 

“I’m goin’ to the bar.”

Sam took a shaken breath, his heart weighed down, still heavy with guilt. He wanted to make things better, though Dean was stubborn, and nothing Sam could say would change that. “Maybe when you get back we could watch a movie,” Sam suggested, “we could rent Star Trek, or something with cowboys!”

Dean didn’t reply, instead walking back to his duffle bag. 

“I said I was sorry.” Sam insisted. He couldn’t think of anything else but pleading for his brother’s forgiveness. “Dean,” Sam continued, his voice raising with each word, becoming more frantic, and shaken. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Sure,” Dean mumbled. Sam could feel the burning at his nose as his brother grabbed a handgun from his bag, placing it on the couches arm rest. “Don’t open the door for anyone, I have a key. If anything comes, shoot. You know where the holy water is. Salt the door when I leave.”

“Dean, please,” Sam pleaded. The guilt was weighing down, squeezing the air from his lungs, making every inch of his body burn, the fire licking through his veins, from his fingertips to his heart.

“Look Sammy,” Dean walked to the door, stopping just as he opened it. He turned back to Sam, their gaze meeting for the first time since they’d returned from the bar. “I get it, you have some fuckin’ reputation or some shit. Don’t let me ruin it on you.”

“Dean-” Before Sam could continue the Dean had stopped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Sam had been left alone before, rarely, but he had been. It had never bothered him, until now. The whole room seeming to weigh in silence, still thick with the tension of him and Dean's argument, laced with guilt, dread, a mix of emotions that seemed to spiral. He didn’t know what to do, should he follow Dean.

What should he do, he tried apologizing.

Again.

And again.

And again.

If Dean didn’t want to talk he wouldn’t, hell even if he did want to he wouldn't.

The thought’s continued to spiral through Sam’s head as he ate his food, then finished his homework, then got ready for bed. 

He didn’t sleep much that night, his stomach twisting as he layed in bed.

The silence weighing around him.

The loneliness of the room burning. 

What could he do to fix.

Beer?

Girls?

Food?

Pie.

~

It was seven in the morning sharp when Sam left the motel, walking the short distance to the small town's library, where he found a pie recipe. From there he made his way to the grocery store, buying the ingredients, before he went back to the motel.

“Okay,” Sam said to himself as he placed the ingredients onto the counter top, a large bag of flour, baking soda, apples, sugar, and anything else he could remember the recipe recommended. “Where should I start.”

He glanced across the counter, before his eyes landed on the stove, preheat the oven. Now how does he do that? It couldn’t be that hard he’d seen Dean do it over, and over, just twist one of the nobs, or did he press the buttons? 

Sam pressed one of the stoves buttons getting a high pitched beep in response. After another button responded in the same way, Sam decided to instead twist each of the four knobs on.

“Now what,” He looked back to the ingredients he’d gotten, and the pot he’d taken out to use as a misshaped bowl. Maybe he should have written the recipe out. “Crust.” 

He moved the bag of flour onto the stove top, before opening the bag of sugar and baking powder. From there it became a guessing game, Sam pouring in the ingredients, attempting to get what he could remember from the recipe. A lot of flour, a dash of sugar, baking powder, more sugar, some vanilla, and more sugar. 

It wasn’t going bad, Sam was in fact proud of himself as he mixed the ingredients, a beige coloured dough beginning to form. Things were actually going well, that was until the bag of flour burst into flames.

“Shit!” Sam screamed, stumbling back from the eat.

He could hear nothing but the ringing in his ear, his eyes locked on the flames, feet staying firmly in place no matter how much of his body screamed for him to run. Shit. Shit. Shit.

His heart hammered in his chest, the heat practically burning his cheeks. Shit. He should move. Run. Do something other than stand petrified in fear. 

Shit.

“Sam!” 

He looked to his left just in time to see Dean step in front of him, and blow out the fire with an extinguisher. Despite the fire being out, Sam’s heart didn’t calm and it was obvious that Dean’s heart was the same, the panic clear across his face.

“Are you okay,” Dean almost demanded, eyes locked on Sam’s. 

Sam could only nod in response, voice lost. What was he supposed to say, he didn’t know, his mind still buzzing with adrenaline, with the moment the bag had burst into flames. 

“Are you sure?”

Sam gave another small nod. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. 

He could almost see the sigh that left Dean’s lips, as the other looked over his shoulder at the mess, the panic that had once controlled his features, now exhaustion, or maybe defeat. “It’s fine,” Dean replied, voice almost monotone. “Just go sit down while I clean this up.”

Without an argument Sam slowly made his way to the couch, staying silent as he took a seat on the old furniture. The panic he’d felt had died out, his heart that once raised, replaced by the twisting of his stomach that had become almost permanent since him and Dean’s fight at the bar.

Sam continued to sit in silence, as he watched Dean clean. Throwing away the now black bag of flour, cleaning off the counters, and then the floor. He didn’t acknowledge Sam the whole time. Sam didn’t blame him. He was in fact almost disappointed when Dean had finished, and walked over to him, so he stood in front of where Sam sat.

“Do you wanna tell me why you decided to light the kitchen on fuckin fire or why you aren’t at school again?” Dean asked, glare locked on Sam, though Sam himself quickly looked down, instead to his socked feet. They were mix matched, one a white, the other a black, with a hole next to his big toe. Neither were that interesting, though it was better than looking at Dean.

“I was trying to make pie,” Sam mumbled, keeping his gaze locked on his socks hole. 

“What?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam said in the same low mumble.

“Sam you’re goin’ ta have to speak up.

A shaken breath filled his lungs, before he finally looked up to Dean, vision hazy, his next breath stuck in his throat. “I was trying to make you a pie,” Sam finally replied, not caring to stop the way his voice shook. “To apologies for yesterday.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “That was a pie?”

“I was trying your hardest.”

“Well you’re hardest fuckin sucks.”

Sam couldn’t stop the smallest smile that spread across his own lips, his gaze dropping back to his feet, then going back to Dean. He knew he had to get the words out, though they seemed stuck, refusing to come no matter how hard he tried. “I’m-” He began barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I was being an ass.”

“Yah you’re right.” Dean agreed “you’re a fucking dumb ass, but lucky for you I’m still a little tipsy, and starving so how ‘bout we head down to the diner and grab some pie that wasn’t made by a snotty kid.”

“I'm not a kid.” Despite his defensive words, it felt good to have Dean teasing him, it felt normal, that's how it was supposed to be. Dean teased, Sam teased back, they didn’t fight, they were brother’s. 

“You’re fifteen, you aren’t exactly the definition of manhood.”

Sam rolled his eyes, though still grinned, taking Dean’s offered hand. He followed the other to the front door, his fingers playing with the sleeve of his sweater as he could still feel the unease in his stomach. It was something he didn’t think would be going away anytime soon.

“Dean-” Sam began just as the other had opened the door, stopping Dean in his tracks. “I really am sorry.”

“Dude,” Dean replied, an easy grin spreading across his face, though there was something about it that didn’t seem right. “It was yesterday, I'm over it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Bridge over water, or whatever that fuckin sayig is.” Dean stepped out the door, nodding his head in the direction of the diner. “Now can we get some pie.”

Sam wasn’t sure if he should mention that it was in fact water under a bridge, not bridge over water.

The same way he wasn’t sure if he should mention the finger like bruising around Dean’s wrist that wasn’t there the day before.

Or the hickey that he’d seen just below the collar of Dean’s t-shirt.

Or the way Dean now had the slightest limp to is step, almost unnoticeable if Sam hadn’t been paying attention .

He wasn’t sure if he should mention any of it, so he didn’t, instead giving a small nod of his head. “Yah, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is based off of a really amazing request, that I defiantly did not do justice. Even close, I'm actually really annoyed with how bad, and boring this turned out.  
> Second I'm so sorry this took so long, I thought it'd take a week, I think it's been over three.  
> and uh lastly how's everyone doing? did you watch the new episode of supernatural? I can't until I think Saturday sooo I can't really be on Tumblr right now!  
> Have a fantastic Friday!


	8. Blood, Bruises, and Daddy Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's been at college for two years now, Dean has of course dropped by occasionally, usually to go out to the movies, or get some food, but this times different

“Yah, I’ll send you the notes,” Sam said into the cell phone, as he stepped into his dorm room, closing the door behind him. With one hand still around the phone he reached his other out to the light switch, feeling around the wall for it. “Are we still on for Monday?”

“Yah.” His friend, Morgan, replied through the phone. “I’ll meet you at the pub?”

“Sounds good, is Jess coming cause-” The moment he flipped the light switch, his breath hitched, stomach dropping in horror? Shock? Sam wasn’t sure. “Dean?”

Sam’s mouth stayed a gap as he stared at his brother who was sat on Sam’s bed. His gaze darted across Dean’s face, and body, once, twice, over and over as if what he saw would disappear though it never did. No matter how many times Sam looked Dean’s face stayed covered in dark purpose bruises, his t-shirt and jeans stained with dried blood. 

Bruises.

Blood.

Sam couldn’t find an inch of Dean that wasn’t covered. Even his lips, which sat in a lopsided grin, were split open. 

“Sam?” His name came from through the phone, jolting him from his trance. “You good?”

“Uh yah,” Sam mumbled. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He didn’t wait for a response instead hanging up, his eyes staying locked on Dean’s as his arm fell back to his side. “Heya Sammy.” Dean greeted, with a grin. The smile across his face easy, similar to his posture, as if he wasn’t looking on the verge of death.

“Dean,” Sam stepped forward, gaze once again darting down Dean’s body. He could barely look through the twisting of his stomach, yet couldn’t find his gaze moving anywhere else. Stuck on the bruise that covered Dean’s cheek, the way his once grey AC/DC now clung to his chest. “What the hell happened?”

“Me, Dad and Lee were on a hunt in Arizona.”

“And you drove here? Dude that’s like eighteen hours, why didn't dad or Lee patch you up.”

A visible breath raised Dean’s chests. “It wasn't the monster that had done the slicing and dicing.”

Dad.

Sam could almost feel his heart stop as his gaze once again darted down his brother’s body, though through his layers of clothing it was impossible to see exactly how much damage their father had caused. “In front of Lee?” was all Sam could muster.

“Can you just help me clean up?”

Sam quickly nodded turning to his bathroom. He collected a few cloths, alongside a small first aid kit and bucket of water before returning to his brother who’d stripped down to nothing but his underwear.

For a moment Sam couldn't move, his breath stuck in his throat as he looked down Dean’s body. It was so much worse than Sam had ever expected, both of Dean's sides covered in large bruises, the same dark colour that matched his face. Dried blood stained his calves and thighs, dripping from the large gashes that covered his thighs. They couldn’t of been from knives, maybe some kind of wip. A belt? 

“You just gonna stare?” Dean’s gruff voice broke the silence, forcing Sam to move despite his suddenly shaky legs.

He stumbled forward, dropping the stuff at the edge of the bed before he took a seat behind Dean, his stomach immediately dropping, begging him to look anywhere else. The gashes across his back were much worse, some long and precisely marked, though many became smaller, more forced, scattered without care. 

Fuck Dean.

That was the only thing Sam could think. 

Why do you let him do this.

Sam forced himself to get one of the clothes and bring it to his brothers back. A lump forming in his throat as he carefully washed away the dried blood, trying to avoid as many of the gashes as he could. It was a hard task, there were so many. Small ones barely bigger than his pinky finger, and large ones that traveled most of Dean’s back, leaving hsi usually pale skin shredded. 

Sam cleared his throat, voice seeming stuck. He wanted to talk, needed to, though it seemed harder than looking at Dean’s back. 

“Why,” Sam began when he had finally found his voice. Still there was a shake to it, an uncertainty that he couldn’t seem to avoid. “What happened this time.” 

When no reply came a shaken breath parted Sam's lips. “You didn’t unload the dishwasher? Were walking too loud? Slammed the car door?”

Once again no reply.

Not even a small movement, some kind of indication that Dean had heard him. 

Sam gave his brother another second to reply before he once again brought the cloth to Dean’s back. He’d lived with Dean long enough to know that if his brother didn’t want to talk he wouldn’t, no matter how much Sam pushed. He’d brush things off with a sarcastic comment, a lopsided grin, or quick wink, play whatever he was feeling down to nothing.

Normally, when it came to their father’s abuse, Sam would continue to push, demand Dean talk to him, though this time felt different. More personal. 

He continued to clean Dean’s abcl working from the bottom up. Cleaning away as much blood as he could, though there was so much, and times it became impossible to know what of Dean’s skin was bruised or bloody. 

As he brought the cloth along Dean’s upper back, he felt the other’s breath hitch, his hand immediately freezing. “Me, and Lee-” Dean whispered, his voice not wavering for a second. Completely neutral. “We got careless.” 

“You guys usually do.” 

Another deep breath raised Dean’s shoulders, his voice coming out broken. “He found us-“ 

Sam opened his mouth to speak though when his eyes fell on Deans suddenly shaking shoulders, whatever he was about to say had been forgotten. “Dean?” He couldn't stop the shaking in his voice as he moved from behind his brother, to standing in front, meeting Dean’s bruised, and bloody face, that now had tears rolling down. 

“Dean.” That was the only thing Sam could seem to get passed his lips, as he watched his brother break into sobs. Tears falling down his cheeks. Body shaking with each gasped breath. There was no attempt to hide it or atleast that Sam could see, and instead Dean broke, continuing to sob even as Sam stepped closer, unsure what to do. 

When was the last time he’d seen his brother cry. Fourteen maybe. In total he could count the times on his fingers, six being about their mother, and one because Sam had gotten hit bad in a hunt, and ended up in the hospital. 

Each time had been tears, silent and slow. 

Nothing like this. Broken. Shattered. Each gasped sob piercing Sam’s heart.

“Hey,” Sam finally began trying to keep his own voice steady despite his hammering heart, speaking the same Dean would to him any time he cried. “You’re okay.”

Another choked breath came from Dean, as he only shook his head, tears continuing to roll down his face. “He- he found us-“ another heart shattering gasp. “Sam.”

Without a second hesitation Sam took a step forward, wrapping his arms around Dean. His own heart hammering as he felt Dean’s body shake in his arms, his brothers sob becoming slightly muffled as Dean buried his face into Sam’s shoulder.

“He found us,” Dean sobbed again, voice nothing short of broken. “He found us- Sammy.”

That was the last thing spoken for what felt like hours, Sam’s heart breaking further with each sob that passed Dean’s lips, his own breaths struggling to stay steady. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Only listening to Dean cry, feeling the shaking of his body until Dean slowly raised his head, tears now staining his bruised and bloody face. 

Sam let his arms fall back to his side, gaze staying on Dean’s face no matter how much it hurt, though Dean’s own gaze stayed locked on the floor. “Dad,” Sam whispered, voice seeming to hang in the now silent room. “He did all this cause what he found you guys with some dope? 

“He didn’t find us smoking, he found us-” Dean’s eyes squeezed shut, a shaken breath parting his lips. “He found us in bed together.” 

Sam opened his mouth though no words came, eyes frozen on his brother waiting for the ‘I’m joking’, the cocky grin that would spread across his lips, anything, though none of it came. Sam’s own mind buzzing with no thought clear other than Dean, and Lee. Together. 

Dean who had hooked up with more girls than towns they lived in. Who spat slurs like it was nothing. Who was as far as Sam had ever thought was nothing short of straight.

Apparently not. 

Sam’s mouth closed, only to open again, continuing to stare at his brother. “You and Lee-” He finally mustered, “For how long?”

“Three years.”

Sam gave the smallest nod of his head, not that Dean would see as the other kept his gaze firmly on the ground. “So what? Dad found you two together and-” The next word stayed stuck, refusing to come, not that Sam even wanted it to. 

Beat you.

Whipped you.

Almost killed you.

“After the case dad wanted to do some gambeling, so we got a hotel in LA.” Sam took a breath, the air barely coming, his lungs burning. “He came back sooner than we’d expected and found us.” Dean closed his eyes. “He tossed Lee out, before...”

“Dean-”

Dean’s eyes opened, meeting Sam’s. His usual pale skin was now rimmed in red, eyes hazy from unfallen tears, though a smirk tugged at his lips. “Luckily I hadn't gotten to the taking off the underwear part, or you know.” Dean’s gaze dropped to his crotch, before looking back to Sam with a raised eyebrow. “might have lost something a bit more important.”

For a moment Sam let the smallest smile tug at his lips, before he slowly sat next to his brother. He kept his gaze on his bed sheets, studying the blue fabric. For a breath. Then another. His gaze finally looked back to Dean, his stomach twisting as he was met with Dean’s bruised face. He’d seen a bit of John’s abuse, as much as Dean would let him, though none of it, over the six years Sam had known about it, was as bad as this. Not even close.

Though most of the bruises were large, up close Sam could see smaller ones. Hickeys that scattered across his collar bones, and lower neck. “Why are you still living with him?” Sam finally mustered. “You’re old enough to leave. You don’t even have to quit hunting, Lee’s a hunter, he knows the life.”

“We aren't dating,” Dean replied, tone suddenly harsher than before, underlined with something that Sam couldn't quite explain. “It was just a few dumb hookups.”

“Well you could start.” Dean didn’t reply, Sam’s gaze staying locked on his brother as Dean’s dropped. “Does Lee know about dad?”

Sam doubted it.

“I’m staying with dad.” 

“Dean-”

“I’m not just leavin’ him after one bad night.”

“One bad night?” Sam cried, no longer able to, or caring to keep his voice steady. “Dean look at yourself, this isn't a bad night!”

Dean only shook his head pushing himself from the bed. There was a stumble to his stance, Sam’s arms tensign to reach out though he quickly recovered his balance. “Can we not talk about him right now?” It wasn’t a question, and Sam knew that. “I need a shower.”

“We can talk in the morning,” Sam suggested. “You could stay the night.”

The smallest smile tugged at Dean’s lips, though that brought no ease to Sam’s still twisting stomach. “Whatever you want doctor phil.”

Sam didn’t reply, instead watching with concern as his brother turned away, walking across Sam’s small dorm room and to the conjoined bathroom. “Sam,” Sam hummened in response, gaze meeting Dean’s as his brother turned to face him. “Who’s Jess?” 

Without hesitation Sam grabbed the pillow from the end of his bed. He threw it towards Dean as harshly as he could, though Dean stepped into the bathroom, dodging it with a laugh.

“Go fuck yourself!”

Maybe if Sam hadn’t been so controlled by his worry for his brother he would have been forced Dean to talk once he’d finished his shower.

Maybe if Sam hadn’t needed time to figure out exactly what he wanted to say he would have forced Dean to talk after he finished stitching a particularly bad cut.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so tired he would have realized that he should have talked to dean that night, because when morning came, Dean, and any sign that he had once beem there, was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I post my one shots on Tumblr, AO3, and Wattpad, and currently I have different one shot posted on each account, and I'm really confused on what I've posted where, cause I swear posted this here last week.   
> Anyways, I'm loosing my mind.  
> -Paige 
> 
> Tumblr- 221Castiel   
> Wattpad- 221Castiel


	9. Day 4 - Branded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destiel

Sometimes Dean wondered what he could have done different, from the moment Cas's handprint was burned into his flesh.

What could he have done when he had left for Lisa. Yes he had loved her, he had loved his life with her, but there was always something off, just out of reach. Hunting was his life, he couldn't have that with her, but Cas. What could he have done to keep the angel in his life.

What could he have done when Cas had become possessed by the leviathans? Maybe if he'd been a bit more open about his thoughts, about the way his heart hammered every time the angel was near. If he's tried to keep Cas a little closer. 

What could he have done when he had left Cas in purgatory. Fought a little harder. Held the others hand a little tighter. Said the words that had been burning in his mind. I love you. 

What could he have done when Cas lost his grace. Let him stay, admit every fear that coursed through his veins, every thought, every second of self hate. Admit how long he'd wanted the chance to feel the others lips against his own. What could Dean have done other than push him away. 

What could he have done when Cas decided to protect Kelly. Been there for him. Supported his decision. Been with him every step of the way, instead of once again pushing him to the side. 

What could Dean have done different to keep him, what could have done to make the other realize how much Dean needed him. Why couldn't he push aside his own hate, his own disgust. Why couldn't he have held onto the other a little longer, appreciated every second a little more. 

Why couldn't he have let the words fall.

Why couldn't he have admitted to the hammering of his heart 

Why couldn't he have let himself love Castiel.

What could he have done to change the outcome. 

That was the only thought that spiralled through his head, as he sat on the floor of the bunker. What could he have done different. Either way it didn't matter. 

He was alone, with a bloody handprint on his jacket sleeve. No Cas, no empty, and no changing his mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s just pretend I didn’t forget to post this a few days ago


	10. Day 5 - Daydreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destiel, Soldier AU, or I watch too much Ratched

August 27th 1944, Dijon France

The pain.

Burning, searing, mixing with the adrenaline that had taken over his body. 

The pain.

A blaring of bullets around him, the screaming of soldiers, all barely audible over the hammering of his ears. 

The pain. 

He couldn't stand. He couldn't breath. Fuck.

The pain. 

A scream immediately ripped through his throat, as a nurse shifted his bloody leg, the skin shredded, torn apart from the back fire of a bomb. "Cut it off!" Dean screamed not caring that they were in the midst of a battle, only able to focus on the pain. The pain. He couldn't breathe, no matter how many times he gasped. "Fuckin cut itg off."

Cas was at his side, probably speaking recurrence trying to calm Dean, though there was no calming him. 

"Dean breathe."

He could only shake his head in response, eyes squeezing shut in attempt to stop everything. His hamemring heart, the ringing of bullets, the scremaing, the mud agaisnt his back, the pain "Just fuckin cut it off."

It was stabbing, burning, angushing, it was like nothing he'd felt before, controlling his whole mind. Every thought that passed. He needed it over, in anyway possible.

The nurse shifted his leg again, another scream tearing through his throat. "FUCK."

"Dean it's okay," he could feel Cas's gloved hand pressed to his sweaty cheek, though it brought no comfort as his eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritting. "They have morphine, it's okay."

"Dean it will be okay."

"Breathe."

~

When Dean's eyes fluttered open he was no longer met with the dark night sky, but instead the tent ceiling above, the fabric illuminated by the soft glow of a candle. He could feel the ache even without shifting. Taking over every inch of his body despite only his right leg receiving any damage front the bombs backfire. He'd been lucky he wasn't any closer.

He didn't feel lucky. 

"Dean," He let out a low grown, mind still foggy from the morphine. 

Slowly Dean sat up, his head turning at the sound of his name, and to Cas, who sat at his bedside. The other's face illuminated in a soft glow from the candle, making his expression, which Dean could only assume was concern, clear. 

Dean held the oher's gaze for only a second before he looked back down the bed, his legs both covered by a thin sheet. It didn't matter he didn't need to look. He'd seen enough bodies to know the way his skin would blister, the burn marks overlapped by scars, a mess of flesh and muscle. He didn't need to look. 

He didn't want to.

Dean's gaze stayed there for another moment before turning back to the other.

"How are you feeling?" Cas asked softly. 

"Shitty." The smallest smile tugged at Cas's lips. "Really fuckin' shitty."

Cas glanced to the right, to the path that traveled through the center of the tent, created by sheets. It gave them a bit of privacy, similar sheets hanging on either side of Dean's end in a makeshift wall. No one else seemed to be awake, no other glow of candles, no other soft whispers.

They were alone.

Without another second of hesitation Cas reached out, lacing the fingers together. 

They continued to sit in silence, the lack of noise almost painful, compared to what Dean had last remembered. The bomb going off, ringing through his head, bullets, screaming, his own, and other soldiers. Noise seemed to be the only constant in his lids, and now without, Dean felt almost empty, abandoned. 

"I'm tired Cas," Dean finally whispered. He wasn't sure what caused him to speak, especially about the thoughts he'd spent so long keeping to himself. The Morphine that still clouded his head? The blood loss? "People are fuckin dying." Why wasn't he dead. Men only a few feet a head had died. Why wasn't he dead. He should have been dead. "And we're gettin' nowhere."

"We have Paris." Cas replied softly, his eyes locked on Dean's, in his usually intense gaze. "We're almost to Dijon. We're winning Dean."

"And if we don't"

"We will."

Dean didn't reply, instead running his thumb over the other's fingers. He knew the chances were looking good, better than last month, though they still had miles to trek, to liberate France alone, never mind Belgium, or Poland, or Germany. The chances of dying were getting higher with each day, of more importantly Cas dying. He could care less about himself but Cas-

Cas who on his first day of training had stopped to watch the squirrel in a nearby tree, who took special care in evacuating children, who still found joy in the fields they marched through. Cas who even in the midst of a world war, with a gun in his hand, and blood staining his skin, was a good man. 

"When we get back," Not if. Dean couldn't think about if. "We should buy a house."

"Dean," Cas's voice was low, barely above a whisper, holding a warning that Dean knew all too well. Not now. Not when anyone in the medical tent could hear them.

Maybe Cas was right but between the morphine, and the throbbing pain of his leg, Dean couldn't care, he wanted to pretend things were normal. He wanted to imagine that when they got back they could buy a house together, they could be together. "We could buy one of those two floor ones with a white picket fence," Dean continued, speaking in the same low voice as Cas. "Or we could get something on farm, whatever you want."

The smallest smile tugged at Cas's lips. "We could get a dog, maybe a Husky," Dean continued.

"Or a cat," Cas suggested. 

Dean's own lips tugged up. When was the last time he'd smiled, he didn't think he had since they invaded the beaches a month earlier.

"If we lived on a farm we could get both."

"And horses, and goats." Cas continued on, the smile across Dean's face only widening as he listened to the other talk. Cas's features casted in shadows by the small candle that still danced on Dean's bedside tabel. His blue eyes that still somehow had this shine to them, his messy hair, his tanned skin, the bags under his eyes, the scratch that scarred his right cheek. Everything. Dean was willing to memorize every inch if he could. "We could have a bee farm."

Dean laughed, "Yah, we could." His gaze finally dropped from Cas's and instead to their hands, both dirty and calloused. "We could have a record player in the living room, and a swing on the porch." Dean paused for a moment, he could picture it, the perfect life. "We could go skating during the winter, and horseback riding during the summer."

When Dean looked back up to the other, the smile no longer rested across Cas's face,a dn instead a sickened expression holding his features. Lips pressed in a tight line, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "Cas-"

"You should get some sleep."

Slowly Cas stood, letting his hand fall from Dean's. "Stay for a bit longer." 

"You need to rest." Dean couldn't argue much, he was exhausted, though he didn't want to be alone. As childish as it was, he wanted the other to hold his hand all night, bring some kind of comfort, some kind of swarth, that had become so hard to find.

Cas glanced over his shoulder before he lent down pressing the quickest kiss to Dean's forehead. "We can talk more in the morning."

Cas stepped back, and for a moment Dean could only stare, across the other's face, and down his body. He still wore his beige pants, the fabric stained with blood, though now he wore a simple white top that hung loosely around his frame. Dean could stare forever, he could sit next to the other and talk forever. 

He wished they had forever.

Maybe when the war was over, they could have the closest thing possible. 

"night, angel."

The smallest smile tugged at Cas's lips. "Good night Dean."

Dean waited until the other had disappeared, before laying back into the cot, the smile still across his face, thoughts still swirling his mind. A farm, or maybe a cabin in the woods, or something out in the middle of nowhere. No matter where, they could do it. After the war, be together. 

Within minutes, Dean had fallen asleep, and for the first time in a long time, feeling hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s just pretend that I didn’t forget to post this one either  
> (Let’s also pretend it doesn’t suck)


	11. Day 12 - Rewind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and John have never been the closest

“Ya sure you’re ready to tell him?” John asked softly, looking to Mary, though his wife’s eyes never met his. Instead she looked to the other side of the kitchen where Dean sat at the table colouring.

Mary gave a small nod, her blonde ponytail bobbing, her beautiful green eyes still on Dean. They were always on Dean, no matter how hard John tried. That was the way it always seemed to be since Dean was born; no longer him and Mary against the world, but Dean and Mary, while John stood on the sideline. Nothing more than a passed thought, second best to her new first.

“I’m worried about him,” Mary whispered, low enough that only John would be able to hear. 

John himself glanced to their son, raising an eyebrow in question. He would never admit it out loud, Mary would be furious, but some change might be good for Dean, some kind of disruption in the perfect life he’d been handed him.

Mary would kill him for even thinking it. 

John's gaze stayed on their son until Dean looked his way, their eyes meeting for barely a second before John quickly looked back to Mary. “What if he doesn’t want a sibling,” Mary continued. 

Her lips sat in a frown, and for a moment all John wanted was to see her usual smile. She didn’t deserve the stress that she was being put through, all of it seeming at once.

House problems, financial problems, looking after Dean.

It was too much for her to handle, especially now pregnant, though no matter how many times John suggested they put Dean in daycare Mary would refuse. He doesn’t like it, she would insist. The kids are mean to him, she’d continue, John never listened to the rest, and instead walked out rolling his eyes. 

“It’s going to be okay,” John whispered back. He reached out, entwining their fingers, Mary’s hand soft against his, the way it always was. The way it was supposed to be “He’ll be fine.”

“But what if he isn’t,” finally Mary looked to John, her green eyes meeting his. 

For a moment John couldn’t reply, too busy staring at the vibrant green, studying the flecks of gold that scattered her irises like stars. Her puckered out lips soft, and gently pressed together. The freckles that were just visible across her cheeks. 

Every inch of her skin, every beautiful feature. 

“Mary.” John finally said. “He’s going to be okay.” 

She gave a small nod, her gaze once again going back to Dean. She took a step towards their son, letting her hand fall from John’s as she continued to walk away. 

John hesitated at first before he followed her.

“Hey baby,” Mary greated softly, once John had stopped next her. Though she crouched to the ground, making herself a little shorter than Dean, John stayed standing. 

“Hi mommy!” The child smiled back. He glanced to paper he coloured on one last time before looking to Mary with a wide smile. 

He didn’t look up to John, and John didn’t blame him, it wasn’t like him and Dean were close. It was clear form day one that Dean was Mary’s, something with each passing day was only further confirmed.

At first it had bothered John, though now. He’d grown to live with it, he still had Mary, and that was all that mattered. 

“Me and daddy wanna talk to you about something important.” Mary continued, in her the soft voice she always spoke around Dean. John had at one point tried to stop it, he’s not a baby anymore, John had said, though the glare Mary had sent him made it very clear, how she raised Dean was not to be questioned. Ever.

Mary shifted slightly, looking up to John as if waiting for him to speak though he only looked back. 

“We were wondering,” Mary said, looking back to Dean, “how you would feel about being a brother.”

“Me?” Dean barely whispered, getting a small laugh from Mary.

“Yah Baby, You.”

Dean’s wide eyes looked up to John, with a slightly confused expression, though John could only shift slightly, unsure exactly how he should stand, or where. Things were always that way around Dean.

Awkward. 

Forced.

Unnatural. 

When they’d found out Mary was pregnant with Dean, all John had heard about was the connection you felt immediately with your child. A love like no other. He'd been told about it over and over, and when the doctor had said they would be having a boy, John had never been more excited, he’d planned everything out, soccer teams, going to watch superhero movies, playing in the dirt.

Being a boy. 

though the older Dean got the quicker that fantasy slipped away.

Dean wasn’t what John had expected. His son wasn’t what he was supposed to be. Dean liked to colour, not play sports. He liked dancing along to music, and talking with stuffed animals. He wasn’t super loud, or destructive, instead gentle and kind, preferring to watch raindrops race down their window then jump in the puddles.

He wasn’t the boy John had expected, and the connection that was supposed to be so easy, seemed almost impossible.

John glanced to Mary for help, though she only looked back, holding the stare until he finally looked back to their son. “Is that okay?” John finally asked.

The slightly confused expression that had once rested across Dean’s features grew into a wide grin. “Yah!” Dean cried.

The child jumped from the kitchen cahir, leaving his crayons behind and instead wrapping his arms around Mary. Immediately the smile John used to see so often spread across Mary’s face as she looked down at her son, the smile he used to be able to make happen himself, now it seemed to only come for Dean. 

“Where’s my baby?” Dean asked, still wrapped in Mary’s arms.

John himself continued to stand, opting to watch instead of be a part of the conversation. “They aren’t here yet,” Mary laughed. “Do you want a brother or sister?”

“A bratha!” Dean cried, getting a small smile from John. He hoped it was a boy as well, just like he had the first time. A boy that would play catch, and build blocks, and wouldn’t cry when he stepped on bugs. A boy. 

“So you’re excited to be a big brother?” Dean nodded his head, still smiling widely. “Oh baby,” Mary whispered softly, she ran a hand through Dean’s hair trying to calm the messy strands of golden blond before she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’re going to be the best big brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I’m going to post some actually good Destiel oneshots soon!!!


	12. The Three Trials and One Success

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~AU~  
> Proposing is harder then Dean thought it would be

“Castiel,”

“I would begin by saying I love you, but that wouldn’t be enough. I love you you can say to anything, or anyone, what I feel for you is so much more. What I feel for you is every happy moment, every single sunset, and cloud watch. What I feel for you is the good moments, but not just the ones like Christmas, the small things, the grass against our feet, the smell of fresh rain, the colour of your eyes. Everything you’ve helped me through, and taught me. I love you is not enough, but for now it will have to do.”

“Castiel Novak, would you give me the honor, for more moments, more memories, and the time to find the proper wording, by marrying me?”

Dean opened the small velvet box raising it as he did so. He kept it raised for another second before closing the box, letting his arms fall back to his side, “what did you think? Would you have said yes?” Dean asked the man behind the counter who looked back with what Dean could only describe as utter exhaustion. “Maybe I should try again with the silver one, you know with the huge fucking diamond.”

“No!” The man quickly cried. “I think the one you have is perfect, and even after hearing it three times I think your speech is also perfect. Now shall I ring you up?”

Dean nodded. He reopened the small box, starting at the ring inside. It was gorgeous, the band a shiny silver, with a black strip across the middle, and in the center a dark blue gem. Matching the velvet it sat on. He knew it was the one, but even still he had the smallest feeling of uncertainty. Maybe it was too simple. Maybe Cas would prefer a diamond, or at least a bigger gem.

“Do you think it’s expensive enough?” Dean asked looking back to the jewler.

“You are aware it’s five thousand dollars?”

“Yah, but my boyfriend comes from a rich family, maybe I should go for a seven thousand one? I heard that's the average price for New York.”

The man raised an eyebrow, as he looked Dean up and down, Dean’s own gaze dropping down his body, to the old t-shirt and faded jeans he wore. “I don’t know your boyfriend, but I have reasons to believe price isn’t his biggest concern,” he paused, finally stopping his judging look and giving Dean a forced smile. “And that you should be putting your money in other aspects of your life.”

Dean only gave a nod in understanding, instead looking back to the ring, the smallest smile on his lips. The gem was the same shade as Castiel’s eyes, the black almost the same shade as his hair, it was so perfect the ring could’ve been made for him.

Dean looked back to the seller, the smile not dropping from his face, “I think I wanna try the first one again.”

~~~

Slowly Dean crouched to one knee, raising the opened box. The cold night wind blew, and for a second all he could think about was how he wished he hadn’t left his jacket in the car, his fingers already numb.

“Angel.”

“From the day I met you, you were different. You were kind and patient, and you loved everything so much. And you had me amazed. I couldn't understand how you could do it, find the good in everyone and everything, you made games out of traffic jams, and brought homeless people for lunch, even when I told you not to. But you never cared what others thought, or said, and you loved with every inch of your being. I never thought I could have that, but when I’m with you, I do. I love you with everything I have, and everything I am.”

“Castiel Novak, would you please make me the happiest man on earth, and marry me?”

“Of course!” Charlie cried, throwing herself into Dean’s arms, the moment he had stood, it didn’t stop the nerves. Her cheery smile, the adorance she had for the date Dean planned, despite it all his heart still hammered. He was going to mess up, when he had to do it for real, he knew it. “Dean, that was beautiful. I’m so happy for you two!”

“He hasn’t said yes yet.”

“Which he will. If you ask,” Charlie replied. She stepped away looking up with an obviously disapproving look, though with her red hair messy, strands falling in her face, it wasn’t nearly as intimidating. “You are going to ask him soon? Right?”

Dean took a hesitant breath. , he knew Charlie was right, it had been over a month since he had bought the ring, but the timing never seemed right. Something always went wrong whether it was the weather or or car problems, things just couldn’t be perfect. “I’ve tried to, I just- I just want everything to be perfect, you know? What if he doesn’t even say yes?”

“Dean.” He nodded his gaze never leaving Charlies, though every inch of him screamed to run. “he’s going to say yes. I have no doubt in my mind, just ask him tomorrow you’re going to drive yourself crazy waiting.”

“Fine. Tomorrow.”

~~~

“Dean, this is weird.”

“Just shut up.”

Slowly Dean crouched to his knee, raising the box, and opening it. “Castiel-” Dean began though as he looked up to Sam, he could only sigh, letting his arms fall back to his side. “You’re right this is weird.”

Instead of standing Dean sat, his gaze staying locked on the ring, the blue gem seeming to mock him. Even as Sam sat next to him, Dean continued to stare, studying each inch of the ring, every single detail, no matter how small. Did he even choose the right ring, how was he even supposed to propose if he didn’t.

“How many times have you practised?” Sam asked

Dean shrugged, he slowly looked up from the ring and to the park that spread out in front of them, it was quite, something unusual for New York. It would've been the perfect night to ask Castiel, if only he wasn’t such a coward. “To another person? Cause I can’t even count all the showers.”

“I really don’t want to know what you do in the shower.”

The smallest smile tugged at Dean’s lips. “Want to hear what me and Cas do in the shower?”

“Dude!” Sam cried. “I don’t want hear about your sex life!”

“I was going to say talk about our favourite dog breeds, but if your head’s that far in the gutter.”

“I hate you.”

A small laugh parted his lips as Dean looked to his brother, who sat to his left. “Did you like the date?” He asked, getting a nod. “Did you think it was enough? Or should we do something else as well? Go to the movies? Maybe a ball? Are those still things?”

“Dean it’s Cas.”

“Really? I had no Idea!” Dean cried sarcastically, which caused Sam to roll his eyes.

“Even I know he would prefer something small.”

Dean sighed, he dragged his hands down his face. His brother was right, no matter how much Dean wished he wasn’t. “I know, I'm just.” Dean let out a shaken breath, “what if i'm not enough? His family already hates me, I'm broke, on the verge of being homeless every second week.”

“what if he realizes he can do better?”

There was a moment of silence as Sam didn't speak, his eyes only wondering across Dean. This was the first time those words had left Dean’s mouth, the thought that had been spinning though his head since him and Cas had been dating. He wasn’t good enough, it will only take a matter of time before Cas realizes it.

Dean wasn’t good enough, and it terrified him.

“You’ve slept with his sister.”

“Thank you,” Dean cried, not caring to hide the anger that was so clear in his voice. “Thank you so fuckin’ much doctor Phil.”

“Let me finish,” Sam snapped back, for once Dean listening, holding back his sarcastic comments.

“You’ve slept with his sister, you’ve gone through debt, and therapists, and you’ve pushed him away, and torn yourself apart.” Was this supposed to be a pep talk, Dean wasn’t sure. It definitely didn’t feel like it. “Dean, he’s seen you at rock bottom, and he’s still with you, because he loves you and nothing is going to change that, He’s going to love how ever you propose, not because of how big the proposal is, or how pricey the ring is, but because it’s from you. Could you get that through your thick skull”

Dean looked back to the ring. He could see it on the other’s finger perfectly, it would look beautiful against his tanned skin. “I'm going to ask him this weekend.”

~~~

“AND THEN, THERE WAS A FUCKING RING IN HIS CHAMPAGNE!” Dean screamed, “WHAT SON OF A BITCH PROPOSES IN CHAMPAGNE?”

“It ended up being for the table next to you. Then because you’re an idiot you told Cas that you think marriage is stupid, usless, and gouverment propaganda-” Sam paused, “I don’t think you know what propaganda means.”

Dean glanced at his brother then back to the road, “I’ve told you this already?”

“At least twenty three times, and it’s only been a week.” Sam replied, “when was the last time you’ve seen him?”

“Well it’s been a week since the ring incident, so a week.”

A sigh came from his right, though this time Dean didn’t turn his head, instead continuing to watch the road. He could drive the route in his sleep, though Dean preferred the familiar scenery over his brother’s disapproving looks. Sam had insisted he needed a book from Castiel’s apartment, and that Dean had to drive him, which was absolute bullshit.

Sam knew where Cas lived

He had his own car.

Dean guessed Sam was just done watching him mope around.

The rest of the drive was done in silence, until they pulled up to Castiel's apartment building, a tall expensive one at least triple the size of Dean’s own, when Sam pulled out his phone. “Shit,” he cried, sliding unlock, “I missed a call from work could you grab the book for me?”

“Fine,” Dean mumbled.

He pushed open the drivers door, making sure to give Sam one last glare before he got out. “Fuckin’ idiot.” Dean continued to complain as he walked to the building's front door, typing in the code before he pushed open the front door, and stepped into the main entrance.

His annoyance didn’t falter, as he took the elevator up to Cas’s floor, and then made his way down the hallway. He missed the other, but he didn’t want to see Cas. He didn’t want to be reminded of the ring that burned in his pocket, or of his failure to propose. He didn’t want to be reminded of his fears.

Frankly all Dean wanted was to lay in his bed, and listen to sad Led Zeppelin songs.

“Who even reads fuckin books,” Dean grumbled, unlocking Cas’s door. As he pushed open the door Dean’s mouth opened to yell a greeting, though as quickly as his mouth opened, it was shut again, his breath hitching in his throat at the scene in front of him.

Roses, candles, Cas. On one knee. A box raised. Ring rested in the centre.

Cas proposing.

Shit.

Dean lips parted only to close seconds later, then open once again, the words never seeming to come. He could only focus on the hammering of his heart, and Cas. Cas proposing.

Cas was proposing.

Cas was proposing to him.

Shit he really needed to say something.

“Well fuck me,” Dean finally whispered, the smallest smile spreading across the others face.

“Hello Dean.”

“Cas-“ he didn’t know what he wanted to say, he wasn’t even sure if it was truly happening as he hesitantly walked towards the other, vision seeming to blur worse with each step. He was going to cry. He didn’t care. “Cas-“

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel began in his usual steady voice. That was all it took before the tears began rolling down Dean’s face, a hand going to his mouth to stop the sobs that he knew would be quick to follow. “There are billions of people in this world, there are endless possibilities, and I understand that you don’t believe in faith, despite that we somehow came together.”

Cas paused for a moment, his blue eyes staring up, wide and hazy. Cas was proposing. Cas was proposing.

Was Dean breathing? He wasn’t sure.

“We were not destined to be together.”

“It was not faith that had brought us together.”

“It was our choice.”

“We chose to be together, through every day, through every fight, through every impossible battle. We choose each other.”

“Dean, would you please do me the honor of choosing me again?”

Dean could only nod frantically as tears fell from his eyes, a choked sob passing his lips. “I-” Dean began using one hand to wipe away the tears as Cas stood, and took his other to slide the ring on. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“I love you as well.”

Dean stepped forward pulling his fiance into a tight hug. He rested his chin against Cas’s shoulder as the other wrapped his arms around Dean in a just as tight hug. For a moment he couldn’t speak, a mix of emotion twisting his stomach, his heart hammering frantically in his chest.

Through it all only one thought stayed clear in his mind, Cas proposed to him.

Cas proposed.

“I was going to.” Dean explained as he pulled away, his gaze darting across the other’s features. His blue eyes, his tanned skin, dark hair. God he was stunning. Dean could stare forever. “Propose I mean, but you know things weren’t working, and It just never seemed to be the right time, and-”

“Sam had told me,” Cas said, interrupting Dean’s rambling much to his relief.

Dean didn’t reply, his gaze staying locked on the other. They were so close, they were always so close, though for once Dean finally looked away, and instead down to the ring on his finger. It was a shiny silver one, with a diamond in the centre, adn small ones lining the band. It was gorgeous, Dean couldn’t stop staring, or the smile that spread across his face.

He couldn’t even find it in him to be angry at Sam.

“Yes,” Cas suddenly said, Dean’s gaze darting from the ring and back to the other, a small frown grazing his lips

“What?”

“Yes,” Cas repeated, “My answer to your proposal is yes. I will marry you.”

Dean grinned, his gaze once again locked on the other. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, here's another one shot I swear I posted here last week but apparently didn't, I think school's making me start to loose my mind...   
> Anyways!! Have an amazing day, and I hope you enjoyed this


	13. Day 14 - Fun and Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~AU~  
> Friends with benefits they’d agreed. No feelings involved they’d agree. Cas doesn’t think he can keep his end of the bargain any longer.

It was all fun and games.

That was the first thought that crossed Cas’s mind as he laid back in his bed, heavy breaths parting his lips, skin glazed with a layer of sweat. His eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, and not on Dean Winchester, he refused to look at Dean Winchester, who lay next to him, breath as heavy as Cas’s.

It was all fun and games.

They weren’t anything more than a few hook ups.

But they were and that was the problem.

They were best friends. They loved each other, even if the very first ground rule Dean had placed was no feelings, they weren't to be more than friends with benefits. 

Cas squeezed his eyes shut, a slow breath filling his lungs. From his right he could feel the other side of the bed shift, followed by the sound of Dean’s feet as he walked across the room, the way he always did when they were done. Then the opening of the door, the way it always did. Then the sound of the shower, the noise that always came. 

Dean always showered immediately, as if needing to wash away the past few minutes.

That was okay, cause it was just fun and games, it didn’t mean anything. 

Cas should probably shower, though he couldn’t find the strength, or the want to move. Instead he stayed laying, listening to the muffled sound of running water, and Dean’s humming, that at times would become low singing. 

He shouldn’t have, it was part of the rules, but Cas had fallen for the other, maybe even long before they’d started whatever they were. He couldn’t help the way his heart would spike when Dean sent him a goofy grin, or the smile that would tug at his lips as Dean sang along to whatever cassette he’d chosen.

The fire that came at each innocent touch.

The electricity from each stare. 

The want from every second they were together. 

It was supposed to be fun and games.

They weren't supposed to be anything more, but they were. 

They were best friends, and saw each other more than just in the bedroom, they were almost always together. Cas would study in one of the booths while Dean worked a late shift at the bar, Dean would pick Cas up from classes. They were in each other’s houses, or sharing tables at cafes, they were almost inseparable. 

They weren’t just fun and games.

Cas needed to end this. 

When the sound of running water stopped Cas sat up, grabbing one of his blankets that had fallen to the ground, and covering himself just as Dean stepped out of the bathroom.

“Cas,” Dean said as he walked back into the bedroom. He wore nothing but one of Cas’s white towels around his waist, the sweat no longer glistening his skin but instead beads of water; beads of water that left strands of his hair stuck to his forehead, and dripped down his toned chest.

For a moment Cas forgot what he was supposed to say, mouth suddenly dry as his eyes quickly darted down the other’s body. “Cas,” Dean repeated. He looked back to Dean’s face, the other’s lips tugged up in a cocky grin. 

“Uh yes?” 

“Did I tell you ‘bout the bar yesterday?” Cas gave a small shake of his head, getting a wide grin from his friend. “There was this chick there, hot as hell, like dude, you might have even gone for her.” 

As Dean spoke he collected his clothing, replacing Cas’s towel for his boxer, followed by his jeans. Cas’s own gaze following the other, unable to look anywhere else. 

He could feel his heart in his throat, his breaths becoming more forced with each word Dean spoke. Stomach twisting as Dean talked about the girl he’d met at the bar, exchanging numbers, the way her hips had swayed as she walked away.

His nose burned, and he knew tears would soon follow, Cas couldn’t cry, no matter how much he wanted to. It wasn’t like they were together, they slept together, they fucked. 

They weren’t togther. 

Fun and games, that’s all it was to Dean, that’s all they were to Dean. And that’s all it should have been to Cas.

It was still definitely games, toying with his feelings, playing with his heart.

But now it was anything but fun. 

“She seems nice,” Cas whispered, when Dean had taken a break from speaking to sit on the edge of Cas’s bed and pull on his boots. A shaken breath filled his lungs, his eyes still on the back of Dean’s head. He needed to speak, he needed to end it, he couldn’t keep pretending him and Dean would ever be something more. That their hookups would be anything more than a way to blow off steam when Dean had a bad day at work, or Cas needed a distraction from the essay he was supposed to be writing.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, the other immediately turning his head. It was all or nothing, Cas couldn’t keep hiding it. “Could we talk for a moment?” 

“Yah.” Dean replied, an easy grin still across his lips, “Is it about my boxers?”

Cas’s lips parted gaze dropping to the waistband of Dean’s jeans where he could just see the lime green colour. Yes, but that would be for another time. “I was wantin-”

Before Cas could continue he was being cut off by Dean’s phone, Ramble On blaring through the bedroom. “Shit,” Dean mumbled, as he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. “Sorry Cas, this’ll just take a sec.”

Cas could only give a small nod of his head. He pressed his lips in a tight line as he watched Dean listen to whoever was on the other side of the call. The grin across Dean’s face only growing wider.

The grin that lit up his whole face, that came from the stupidest things, arcade machines, toy lightsabers, movie marathons. The grin that sparkled his eyes, and made his whole face seem to glow. The grin Cas could spend his whole life staring at, that made his heart skip beats, and his mind spiral. The grin that made him only fall further for Dean Winchester.

“That was Lisa,” Dean said, shoving his phone back into his pocket. The girl from the bar, Cas assumed, he hadn’t been listening enough to get her name. “Shit Cas, she wants to get some drinks!”

Cas could only give another nod as Dean stood. “Are you okay if we talk later? Tomorrow morning?”

“Yes,” Cas whispered, the pain spiking through his heart as Dean walked towards bedroom door, “Of course.”

Without another word Dean turned, walking out of the bedroom.

It wasn't until he heard his front door close, that Cas fell back in his bed, eyes once again squeezed shut, lips pressed in a tight line, attempting to stop the sobs that threatened to shake his body.

His breathing stayed even, though that didn’t stop the first tear from falling. Rolling down his cheek. Followed by a second, and then a third, then a sob. 

Fun and games.

That’s all he was to Dean.

And that’s all he would ever be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry guys if I’m bothering you with posting so much!! Please tell me if you think it’s to much at once! 
> 
> Tumblr - 221castiel


	14. Day 16 - Switch It Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where I switch it up from Destiel, or Dean switches it up from girls

“It’s been a while,” Dean heard John say from behind him, his own gaze staying on the counter as he cut the vegetables. He’d originally planned on cooking spaghetti. It was easy, especially when he was exhausted, though then Lee had called, saying he was going to stop by, and John had quickly wanted something better. “How have you been?”

“Good,” Dean herd Lee replied, as calm and laid back as usual. “Hunting’s been keepin’ me busy.”

“No plans of settling down then?” There was a pause where Dean knew Lee was shaking his head. “No girlfriend?” John asked 

This time Dean looked over his shoulder, eyes immediately meeting Lee’s, who sat with John at the kitchen table, already looking Dean’s way. Across Lee’s face was that stupid grin, the one that sent Deans heart racing. That made his feet seem to melt in his shoes, and mind going numb. The smile that could leave even Dean speechless. 

God Dean adored that smile.

Lee’s gaze slowly traveled down Dean’s body, without any attempt at hiding it. Down his chest, down his waist, down his legs, and back up. Dean stayed frozen the whole time, only turning away when their eyes met, a hot blush flaring his cheeks. 

“No,” Lee finally replied. There was a pause, where Dean assumed his friend took a sip of beer. “Just doesn’t seem to be anyone interestin’ enough.”

Then another pause. Lee was still staring at him, Dean was sure of it, though he couldn’t bring himself to look back. He hoped Lee was still staring. 

“It’s hard to meet another hunter,” Lee continued. “Especially one with good music taste.”

After that the conversation continued on, talking about various cases Lee had been on, and the hunters he’d worked with since they’d last seen him a few months earlier. Then the cases John had been working on. At one point John had tried to get Sam to join the conversation, though the youngest Winchester, who was reading on the couch, only gave a small grumble in reply.

It was more than Dean contributed; instead he himself stayed facing the counter, cutting the vegetables he’d soon throw into the stove alongside the chicken he’d already prepared. He stayed that way until John called his names.

Immediately Dean turned his gaze first landing on Lee, heart jumping in his throat, before he quickly looked to John.

Not in front of his dad. 

They couldn’t be- whatever him and Lee were in front of his dad. 

John, as Dean looked back didn’t say anything only raising his, what Dean assumed was now empty, bottle of beer. 

Dean gave a small nod in understanding, turning to the fridge, and pulling the door open, though as his gaze darted across the shelves he couldn't find another bottle. 

“we’re out.” Dean said as he turned back to his dad, John only looking back with a familiar look. A rough expression, that though not angered at the moment, was anything but welcoming.

“Then maybe you should go get some more.” John replied, steady, though harsh. The way he often spoke when he was angered, and Lee was around. When Lee was around he never yelled, he never shoved Dean around, or left bruises, as if he wanted to put on a show for Lee. 

Pretend that they were a stable family.

Happy.

Dean didn’t complain, if anything it was a relief to have a break from the physical abuse.

Dean didn’t respond, only giving a small nod, before he walked across the room, to the armchair where his leather jacket had been thrown. He swore he could hear Sam mumble something along the lines of ‘Get your own alcohol,’ though he didn’t give his brother a glance, and instead pulled the jacket around his shoulder.

His hand slid to the pocket, checking for his wallet before he pulled their apartment door open. “I’ll be back in a few,” he called over his shoulder.

He pulled the door close, shoving his hands into his pockets as he began walking down their apartment buildings hall, towards the front door. The hallway was silent only filled by the footsteps of Dean’s boots, seeming to echo against the walls.

One step, two steps.

It wasn’t until the sound of a door opening disturbed the steady beat, then the sound footsteps behind him. 

When they grew close, Dean tensed, one hand moving around his pocket knife, as he turned his head. Though the moment his gaze landed on Lee his grip loosened.

“Thought I’d walk with you,” Lee said as he walked up to Dean, the others face still resting in an easy.

“Missed me already?” Dean teased. 

Lee shrugged as they began walking again, yeh other pushing the door open to allow Dean through first. Immediately the cold air was felt, burning against Dean’s as his gaze darted around the snow covered streets.

Above through the dark sky, small snowflakes could be seen. It could have almost been peaceful, though knowing what hid in the dark, it was hard to find peace. 

Knowing what waited for him after Lee left made it even harder.

“Your dad and brother started goin’ at it, took that as my cue to leave.” Lee paused the silent streets filled only by the crunching of snow under their boots. “And maybe I missed ya a bit.”

Dean bit at his lip trying to stop the forming smile that rugged at his lips. “Your dads awesome and all,” Lee continued, “but I was hopin’ we’d get to hang out, without him or Sam.” 

“How long are you stayin’?” 

Sean looked over to Lee, who looked back with a smile. “How long do you want me to stay?” Lee asked, his usual tone replaced with something softer, just on the verge of teasing.

Dean immediately stopped, lips parted as he stared at Lee who had stopped as well. 

Forever. 

Despite the thought, Dean's mouth stayed shut, eyes locked on the other. He could feel the freezing wind against his cheeks, their breaths coming out in small clouds around them. 

Forever. 

Dean would stay with the other forever if he had the choice. 

Feel the safety that always came with every touch, with every teasing nudge.

The bubble of emotion that would rise anytime Lee was around. 

The way his heart raced as Lee would lean in closer, running his thumb along Dean’s cheek to wipe away the blood after a hunt. You gotta be more careful Lee would mumble, Dean almost melting on the spot. 

Forever.

Yet Dena knew that was impossible, it wasn't an option no matter how much he wanted it.

Instead of replying, he turned, the snow under his boots crunching as he attempted to walk away. Though he could only make it a step before Lee had grabbed his wrist, tugging him back.

“Dude,” Lee laughed, Dean’s gaze meeting the other’s, Lee’s hand still around his wrist, sending electricity raising up his arm. “It’s not that hard of a question, Christmas is next week, do you want me there or not?”

For a moment Dean didn’t reply. He should have been freezing with the gusts of wind that tore against his leather jacket, swirls of snow falling around them, yet he wasn't. His whole body alive with warmth under Lee’s teasing gaze. Warmth from the other’s touch, from the thought of Lee there for Christmas dinner, and then Christmas morning. 

Warm from the bubble that seemed to rise in his chest, growing with every passing second.

“You’re a jackass.” Dean finally spat, pulling his arm from the other’s grip.

Despite his words Lee’s smile didn’t falter. “What?”

“You know.” Lee only raised an eyebrow causing Dean’s jaw to clench. 

“I really don’t.”

Dean crossed his arms across his chest grinding his teeth together. Lee had to know what he was doing, he had to know the effect he had on Dean, Dean wasn't exactly good at hiding it. “Yes you do,” Dean said back, tone slow and harsh. God he wanted to punch that smile off of Lee’s face. That fuckin’ smile. “Don’t be dumb.”

“Oh,” Lee hummened, he stepped closer, the little space between them closing, sending Dean’s heart racing. If it wasn’t for the shaking in his legs, threatening to crumble under his weight, he would have taken a step back. “You mean this?”

Lee brought a hand to Dean’s cheek, immediately causing his heart to leap. 

Dean couldn’t breath, only able to feel Lee’s hand against his face, the other just as cold as himself. The hammering of his heart. The bubble bursting in his chest.

He couldn't move.

He didn’t think he wanted to move. 

Lee’s eyes stayed locked on his own, holding something Dean couldn’t quite explain. Then all at once Lee was leaning for, and whatever space between them was closed as their lips connected. 

Dean has been with girls before, he’d had their hands travel along his skin, their lips press to his own, their skin against his own. He’d been with girls, he knew girls. He knew the way they made him feel, steady, stable, in control, being with Lee was anything but that. 

Being with Lee was a match against a haystack. 

Free falling without a parachute.

Being with Lee was fire and electricity. It was out of control, yet fully in Dean’s grasp. It was that bubble bursting in his chest, filling him with an indescribable energy. 

Their lips were apart just as fast as they were together, Dean having quickly pulled away, realizing what exactly he was doing. Kissing a boy. More specifically, kissing his best friend, Lee Webb. 

For a moment neither of them spoke, nothing but the wind ringing through Dean’s head, breaking the almost haunting silence. Their eyes staying locked on each other, Lee’s face casted in shadows, from the moonlight above.

They kissed.

Dean kissed a boy.

Dean kissed Lee Webb.

“Was it really that bad,” Lee finally asked, that stupid smile spreading across his lips.

Without a second thought Dean stepped forward, closing whatever space had once been between their chests, and raised his hands to the other’s face. He could feel Lee’s hands move to his hips, smell the alcohol across Lee’s breath.

Dean let one last breath part his own lips before leaning in. Once again connecting their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next thing I post will be Destiel! I’m also sorry, this kinda sucks, but I’m bored of working on this so here you go! 
> 
> Tumblr- 221Castiel

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I hope you enjoyed the one shot! I'm kinda new to AO3 so at the moment I'm kinda just figuring things out! This book will probably be updated weekly, or maybe even less, I'm not sure. I mostly write oneshots when I need a break from my current fic (Dear Addiction).  
> Anyways I hope you all have a lovely night, and a fantastic weekend!  
> lot's of love, paige


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